Equinox
by Vamps-with-Wings
Summary: Vampires, werewolves, and other assorted paranormal creatures encompass Max's life as a hunter for the CSM. But something even stranger is stirring, and it may be entwined with the sudden appearance of Fang and his band of unusually winged friends. The veil between the normal and paranormal is thinning, and Max must find a way to stop it before the Vernal Equinox draws near. FAX AU
1. Chapter One

**Wow. It's been awhile. A really, really, really, really, really long while. For those who have previously read my stories, you'll probably understand. If not, then . . . hi!**

**I've just not had much inspiration in the MR fandom of the late (year). I've been busy with school (only three more days left in my freshmen year, it's crazy), and general life. The demand of writing for FF didn't really fit into my schedule. Obviously, I continued writing . . . just off and on, when I got the chance.**

**I think it's time to reappear once more, though. I'm pretty excited, so I hope you enjoy!**

**Equinox**

_**Chapter One**_

The Winter Solstice was upon us. For most people -_normal _people- that meant nothing other than the shortest day of the year. Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on how you looked at it), I wasn't a normal person.

Not in the slightest.

"You ready?" The voice came from above me, dripping down to my ears. The tick of excitement in his words sent a little trill of its own up my spine.

I grinned automatically, quipping back easily: "I was born ready. Haven't you learned that by now?"

There was a brief moment of darkness following my words, as a large mass swung across the bright fluorescent light filtering from the ceiling. Dylan landed with a muted thump a few feet in front of me, nimble on his toes. He shot me a smug look, stretching his hands. Callouses riddled the expanse of his palms, due to excess exploration of the beams stretching like a labyrinth above us.

"Yeah, yeah," he remarked with an added roll of his eyes. "This is the first Solstice job they've let us go out on, though. You aren't even a little worried?"

"Worried?" I scoffed. "I'm up for the challenge, no big deal. Why, is wittle Dylan afraid of a few big bad monsters?" I teased, poking him hard in the shoulder. He knocked my hand away from where it dug into his skin, visibly straightening.

"No. Just didn't want you whining the entire time," he muttered, his turquoise eyes flashing brilliantly.

I shook my head, but let the subject drop. The last thing I needed before going out on a mission, especially one of this caliber, was a wounded companion. Dylan's ego was relatively easy to nurse back to health, but his arrogance would lead to trouble for the both of us in case of an emergency.

Our shoes echoed through the hall in the silence that encompassed us. We moved down the solid squares of granite at a steady pace, falling easily into perfectly synchronized step. The thunk of our boots bounced off the rafters, shooting the sound higher and higher.

I was just brushing a strand of dark blonde hair that had twisted from its braid out of my face, when my ears siphoned out a single scratching sound unlike any of the usual creakings of the building. Casting a sidelong glance at Dylan, I gently brushed my fingertips against his hand as they swung past each other. His eyes shifted imperceptibly, immediately adopting the same caution.

Paranoia was a blissful thing. It kept you alive in dangerous situations.

My head shifted, roaming. I fought my urges to look back, gritting my teeth as I forced myself to stare straight ahead. The familiar gray walls seemed to expand forever, nothing imposing on the great stretch aside from the doorways cut into them.

There was another shift in silence, like a shoe scuffing against a surface. It was followed by an intake of breath, and a barely muted thump.

From those three noises alone, which would be barely detected by the average human, I was able to pinpoint the exact location of whoever was trailing us. Tilting my head, I indicated the general area above us. Dylan glanced down at his shirt in a nod, flicking at a nonexistant piece of lint on the snug green v-neck.

Still trailing along at the same speed, I methodically tapped the side of my thigh. At the third beat, we both swung into action.

He crouched down, interlocking his fingers to create a cradle. They were barely fortified together before my foot found its way into his snug hold. I bent at the knees, leaping upwards with Dylan's momentum helping me along. My hands steadily gripped the edge of the wooden beam, worn smooth and soft under the feet of many generations. Without pausing, I continued the motion, swinging the rest of my body up and over. My movements were fluid and graceful; practiced and with ease.

There was a shocked yelp as I wrestled a fist full of cloth into my grip. I grinned before pushing my unfortunate victim into Dylan's awaiting arms below. They wrestled for a few moments, before finally finishing with their grappling and stepping away.

My smug smile was still in place as I dropped lightly to the floor.

"What do you think you're doing, Gasman?" I demanded, trading in my triumphant expression for one of stern disapproval.

He crossed his arms in front of his chest, raising his chin defiantly. It was hard to take him seriously through the curtain of angelic blonde curls obscuring his baby blue eyes, but I did my best.

"I'm going with you guys," he insisted, further narrowing his eyes.

Dylan laughed, the sound resounding deep in his throat. "I don't think so, kid."

This oblivious prod at his age was obviously a tender subject for Gazzy. Being only nine, he was at somewhat of a stalemate. He no longer wished to be treated like a child, yet he was still too childish to be thought of as anything otherwise.

I shot Dylan an admonishing look all the same, attempting to sympathize.

"Gazzy . . ." I began hesitantly, but he interrupted.

"Come on, Max! You guys always get to do things. I'm never even allowed to leave here! It's like prison, only with better food. It's not fair," he complained, pouting visibly now.

I looked over his shoulder at Dylan, my eyes pleading for assistance. In response he threw his hands up and shook his head, indicating that the situation was _all_ mine. I thought up a few colorful names for him then, but stored them away for future reference.

You never knew.

"Look, I get it. I really do. But it's too dangerous for you," I explained, futilely wishing that it would be enough to subdue him. Gazzy's spirit was too much like mine, though; like fire.

Too stubborn for his own good.

"I've been training for this stuff since I was a baby! I can do it. I know I can. Nobody gives me a chance to prove myself, though."

I sighed, bending down to his level. I ruffled his golden curls affectionately, giving him a lopsided smile. "Your chance will come. Probably sooner than you think. Not on a Solstice night, though. They've never even let _us _go before, and look how long _we've_ been hunting. Trust me. It'll be your time before you even know it."

He stared at me wordlessly for a few moments, before blowing out a heavy breath. His shoulders sagged as he walked back in the direction he had come from, grumbling angrily the entire way. I watched him for a few moments; his lanky arms and legs, the muscle starting to build beneath. His intentions were good. His instincts even more so.

He'd be the best yet.

When I finally tore my gaze away, my eyes met Dylan's calculating ones. His eyebrows were furrowed slightly, and he appeared to be attempting to solve some enigma.

I raised an eyebrow of my own, saying: "Shall we?"

A few seconds after my proceeding down the corridor, he quickly made up the distance, jumping back into step beside me.

The shuffle of our movements resumed, resounding in the palpable silence once more. Not awkward; comfortable. Everything, even moments of absolute quiet, had their purpose here. Life was a routine: monotonous and numbing. Once you stepped outside of the careful fortification, though . . . all of it changed.

The world that existed beyond these walls was a wild one. It was full of incomprehensible dangers. We were the reason that people didn't fear the things that go bump in the night. Our sole purpose was to feed their ignorance; make them believe it was all lies.

In order to maintain the peace between humans and those of paranormal variety, our existence was born.

Not even a minute later I came to a sound halt, Dylan following suit. I pushed open the nondescript door, revealing what appeared to be a small cleaning closet within. There was a tall shelf on all three sides, laden with buckets, mops, disinfectant sprays, and clean towels.

It was a clever disguise.

Swallowing thickly I stepped inside, shuffling awkwardly as Dylan joined me. My shoulder pressed into cold metal, and a clammy sweat broke out along the nape of my neck. I fought a shudder as Dylan inched the door shut, until no light except for the dull sheen sneaking through the thin crack at the bottom existed.

I was slightly claustrophobic, to say the least.

While I worried at my bottom lip, Dylan had turned his back to me. As my vision adjusted, I could see his vague outline. He was rummaging through a pile of cloths, reaching for something behind them. A small noise of triumph escaped between his lips seconds later.

There was a flash as he swung back around to face me, holding his arms out awkwardly as he passed the object into my hands. I worked quickly after that, punching in a string of numbers on the keypad. Upon pressing the enter button, I expected a slight rumble to pass beneath our feet, followed by the hiss of a door sliding open.

Contrary to that, nothing happened. At all.

"Wha-?" I began to ask, when I was abruptly cut off by the spontaneous blinding light that imposed on my pupils. Squeezing them shut, I winced at the sting that was slowly wearing off.

Once I could actually see again, I squinted to where the door leading back into the hallway had been roughly torn open. A tall, rigid form was framed by the fluorescent lights beaming in. With arms crossed, their narrowed slits for eyes could be seen flagrantly.

"What do we have here?"

Marian Janssen. She was, unfortunately, one of the head honchos. She was the leading scientist on the board, overseeing all the experimentation on paranormal creatures. Mostly dead, but occasionally they brought in a live specimen for some variation.

I hated her. The only joy she found was in torturing everyone around her. Especially me . . . like now, for instance.

"Is there a problem?" I asked sweetly, sugar coating every available surface of my words. By the menacing curl of her lips, I could tell she wasn't buying my politeness. Not even for a second.

She seemed to ignore my question, instead choosing to follow up with a nerve twisting rant of her own.

"Tonight, as both of you very well know, is a Solstice night. That means every single monster in existence will be clawing their way from their graves, and haunting the humans we seek to protect. Not only do we have to multiply the number of hunters being sent out, but they too will gain power. Now, we at the science department are still working fervidly to understand - and hopefully one day maintain- why, exactly, these nights boost them as they do. For the time being, though, it's as it has always been."

I couldn't help but roll my eyes.

"Save the history lesson," I interrupted brashly, arms crossed over my chest in a mirror of her stature. "We talked to Anne. She gave us the OK. We're allowed to hunt tonight. Don't waste your breath, alright?"

My words were met with harsh laughter. With a cruel look in her already glaring eyes, she said: "Well then I'm sorry to break it to you, but she sent me here to inform you that she's changed her mind."

I pressed my lips together in a harsh line, in order to keep the incredulous look off my face. At my side, I could feel Dylan shifting in annoyance.

"Out there, right now, is no place for a child; no matter how cynical they've come to be," she whispered critically. Then, she straightened visibly, adopting a pleasant smile. "Now, it's getting late. Off to bed for you two."

**It's kind of dull at the moment, I know. The next few chapters probably will be. I don't like automatically jumping into things, though. I'd like to create SOME sort of base and introduction for the story. Thus said, you'll have to bear with me somewhat for the first few chapters. Things will eventually pick up speed, but a lot of concepts need to be revealed so that the story can make some semblance of sense. Patience, my dears.**

**Anyway! I know I'm a little rusty. However, I would appreciate some feedback. Don't be shy, drop me a review! Tell me how your day is going. Rant about irrelevant things (just don't forget to mention the story at some point).**


	2. Chapter Two

**I forgot to mention it before, but this story also has loose ties to **_**Paranormalcy**_**, by Kiersten White. If you've never even heard of the book, that doesn't much matter. But I have to give credit where credit is (no matter how partially) due.**

**Equinox**

_**Chapter Two**_

Not all paranormal creatures were bad. However, they had to do bad things in order to prolong their existence. This made them a liability; one that could potentially make a serious dent in the human population. For that sole reason, they must be exterminated . . . at all costs.

It wasn't easy. You couldn't look a creature -"living" or "dead"- in the eyes and take what little life it possessed without feeling some sort of remorse. I had been raised in a way as to disperse of such emotions; to kill without hesitation. For the most part, I did well. There was always that sickening crunch of guilt pooling in the pit of my stomach, though.

Only once did I really consider allowing an unwilling abomination to live.

The mission had been one of extreme routine. I had been training for such instances since I could walk, and had been hunting since age eleven (properly supervised, of course). Therefore, on my fourteenth birthday, they determined that I was experienced enough to hunt by myself.

Dylan, being as protective as he was, adamantly insisted he tag along. I refused. Looking back, I was pretty glad of that. He never would have let me live that one miniscule sliver of wasted time down.

I couldn't help it, though. No amount of suppressed feelings could overcome that one surge to throw away everything I knew, and turn my back to the monstrosity before me.

The night had yet to cool down; strings of the sun's lingering heat tied to the air. Only a small breeze whisked through the trees, balmy and pleasant. I stuck to the shadows the grasping fingers of the towering trees provided, skirting the pools of light created by the street lamps.

I had been investigating the suspicions of a suburban vampire. There hadn't been any human deaths, yet. _Yet_. But, there had been several reported robberies throughout the small, cozy neighborhood. The only things ever reported missing were priceless jewels. The crook had a knack for picking out real diamonds, versus fakes.

Little known fact: vampires loved expensive jewelry.

The assignment had mostly been one of recon. I wasn't actually expected to wheedle out the vamp. I was just supposed to observe; maybe prohibit any more break-ins. That was before I heard the scream.

As soon as the anguished cry infiltrated my senses, I took off at a sprint. I was still aided by the cover of darkness, but that didn't mean much anymore. The sound had come from a small house at the end of the street.

I paid little attention to my level of stealth, as I skirted around to the back. A vampire feeding became so consumed by the act, that they rarely had room for any other thoughts. They wouldn't notice me. If, by chance, there wasn't a vampire involved at all, a human wouldn't be able to detect me either.

The rear door was cracked open the slightest bit, raining droplets of golden light into the night. There were shuffling sounds coming from within, and the noise of heavy panting. I swallowed thickly once, before edging forward. One last breath, and I flung the door open, jumping over the threshold and into a defensive crouch.

There were remnants of an evening meal still visible in the kitchen. A pot boiling on the stove, a half chopped tomato, scattered ingredients here and there. A dish towel was flung haphazardly on the floor, leading like a checkered path to the pale hand lying limply on the tile.

"I didn't mean to."

My eyes shifted up to meet the pitch black ones of the vampire. His brown hair was slicked back, and he wore incredibly domestic clothing; like he had just arrived home from the office. His entire body was quivering as he hovered over the lifeless woman beneath him.

Her mouth was still shaped in the perfect 'o' of horror she had felt while he drained her body of blood. No spark was left in her once bright eyes. She was definitely dead.

"I just . . . I never wanted to hurt her. I never wanted to hurt _anybody_," he insisted fervidly, his voice cracking in a way that displayed how distraught he was.

I wanted to tell him that I knew that. That I knew he, nor any of the others (excusing a few cases), ever wanted their fate. That it wasn't their choice to be monsters.

"I was going to tell her. Tonight. I knew there was a chance that she would run for the hills, screaming all the way . . . but she deserved to know. I loved her. I didn't want to hide who I was anymore," he explained, almost pleadingly. "She was cutting the tomato, laughing about something that had happened at work that day, when she knicked her finger. I had enough self control not to pounce on her because of a little blood. It was fine. Except, she turned around, and then her face got really white . . . and she looked like she had seen a ghost. I didn't realize until then, that my fangs had slid out a little, and my eyes . . . they were already rimmed black.

"I couldn't handle her expression. I couldn't fathom that, in that one second, her faith in who I was depleted instantaneously."

An angry vampire, when being exposed to any amount of blood, was a major threat to anybody. She hadn't stood a chance.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, reaching for one of the holsters on my belt. He didn't seem to catch my action, having been too caught up in staring in shame at the death he had caused.

"I loved her," he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. He reached out, gently caressing the side of her face. His finger, spattered with her blood, left a thin line down her jaw. I couldn't mistake the sparkle of tears in his eyes.

It _wasn't _his fault. He couldn't help his instincts. He never wanted to be a soulless, blood sucking creature. He didn't have a choice. He _never _had a choice. How could I kill him?

With one twitch of my wrist, the wooden stake I had protracted from my belt sunk deep into his chest.

_Not all paranormal creatures were bad. However, they had to do bad things in order to prolong their existence._

My expression hardened to solid rock. I shoved any feelings other than triumph deep into the cavernous vaults inside me, before taking my phone out and calling the kill in. A team would arrive shortly, where they would proceed to tag and log the vamp, then either take him back to the labs or set him out somewhere sunny and watch his body burn.

When asked later, I smiled and lied straight through my teeth. Yes, of course it was the best birthday present ever. My first solo assignment, and a successful kill. I couldn't be any prouder.

Inside, I couldn't have been any sicker.

I wasn't really sure why I was entertaining that memory now. It had been a little over a year since the incident. I had gone on tons more assignments, and saw to the end of countless paranormals. Besides, it wasn't like my hesitation then was anything like Anne's hesitation now.

No, she just didn't trust Dylan and I to take care of ourselves.

The sound of a screeching car, followed by the undeniable thundering of an explosion, snapped me from my reverie. I glanced up in time to see the giant mushroom of orange and red flames coalesce across the entire screen; eating up all the carefully designed graphics.

"_No_!" Gazzy moaned dramatically, tossing his controller to the side with a huff. Dylan leaned back in his chair, loosely gripping his own. His smirk of satisfaction was halfhearted, barely masking the tension riddled beneath.

I rolled my eyes at the Gasman's overreaction, fiddling with a piece of hair that had wound its way into my eyes. My leg swung rhythmically over the side of the chair, as I burrowed deeper into its soft fabric. I tried to stay as pacified as possible, but my frustration was increasing the more time that passed. Every particle of my being was itching for movement; for something other than this nothing.

"Wanna play again?" Gazzy asked, perking up once more, having already forgotten his crushing defeat. He didn't outwardly say it, but everything about his demeanor was exuding happiness at our misfortune.

"Eh. Maybe later," Dylan promised him, handing him the controller. Gazzy shrugged in response, flicking the console to a different game.

Dylan and I shared a look. His exasperated, and more than rightfully angry, expression mirrored my own. After Marian had ordered us off, we had been unjustly confined to the lounge room. I could only watch Gazzy lose so many games to Dylan, though. My patience, having been not much more than a sliver already, was worn thin.

"Are we just going to sit here, then?" Dylan asked calmly, raising one perfectly golden eyebrow. He folded his large hands in his lap, appearing to have all the time in the world.

I met his intense gaze for a few more moments, before averting my attention to the clock. I watched the second hand make its agonizingly slow revolution around the face. As soon as it hit the twelve again, and the minute hand slid into place over it, I languidly came to my feet.

Brushing invisible dust from my coal gray jacket, I swung my dark blonde braid over my shoulder. Dylan watched my every movement, completely immobile.

"Absolutely not. Let's go."

We made our way, side by side, to the door. Gazzy, being distracted by his video game, hardly noticed our departure. After vaguely shooting us a glance, he turned his attention back to the TV screen with a shake of his head. He knew we were up to no good. He probably just figured we would get caught.

But we wouldn't.

I poked my head out into the hall, observing for signs of life. Security wasn't necessarily high within the building, though. There wouldn't be many stray hunters milling about the premises, either. They were all occupied elsewhere.

Motioning for Dylan to follow, I crept into the hallway. We moved soundlessly down the brightly lit corridor. After a few minutes of this, and a couple twists and turns later, he couldn't help but intrude on the quiet.

"Getting out will be easy, but how are we supposed to get ammo?" he whispered, his words tickling my ear. I came to a stop, attempting to mask the shiver that ran down my spine, having not anticipated his close proximity.

"Well, we obviously have to go to the weapon's room first, nimrod," I replied condescendingly, before walking again. It took a few steps, but eventually I felt his presence hovering close behind me once more.

"Yeah, but obviously Anne changed the combination. How are we supposed to get in? No offense, but you're not smart enough to crack the code," he murmured, and I could hear the smug smile in his tone.

I bit down the urge to swing a punch, rolling my eyes at his ignorance instead.

"You don't really think that's the only entrance to the weapon's room, do you?" I demanded, turning around to face him, just so he could see my incredulous expression.

He appeared momentarily perplexed, before saying uncertainly: "Isn't it?"

"Not even." I laughed, smiling broadly. "Anne might think it's the only one. Everyone else who lives or stays here might think it's the only one. I, on the other hand, know better."

_Dad knew better too_, I reminded myself internally, but omitted it out loud. He was gone. It didn't matter what he did and didn't know.

**Still boring. I know. Like I said before, I have to start somewhere. Reviews would probably help speed along that process . . .**


	3. Chapter Three

**It's still going to be really boring in this chapter. I had a lot written for this story before I posted it, but it's stuff I did a SUPER long time ago. So, this has been collecting dust in my documents for quite a long time. It's another reason you'll have to bear with me on the monotony.**

**If I was just now writing everything, it wouldn't be this way. As it is, I would rather post what I have than try to re-write it all.**

**Sorry :(**

**Equinox**

_**Chapter Three**_

Dylan grunted, swinging onto the beam beside me. I crouched with my head low, maintaining a stable balance. He copied my position, squinting at me in the dim light. High into the vaulted ceilings there was no illumination, just the crisscrossing network of wooden structures. It was the ideal place to conceal alternate entrances and hidden alcoves. They were nearly impossible to find, even if you knew what you were searching for.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" he inquired, for what seemed like the hundredth time. At this point, I couldn't blame him. Even I was second guessing myself, which didn't happen a lot. Trust me.

"_Yes_," I hissed anyway, my brown eyes narrowed and glaring. "It's here somewhere. I know it is. Obviously, I don't routinely use other means of entry," I added spitefully.

He snorted in contempt.

I went back to ignoring him; something I was very good at.

Sighing inaudibly, I proceeded to crawl down the straight beam. The further I went, the harder it became to see. That was good. It meant we were getting closer to something of interest. Relying on nothing but memories, I slid a few more meters before pausing. Biting my lip, I rotated my head around in order to get a better view of what was before me. In the dark, I could only discern vague shapes.

"This is ridiculous, let's-" Dylan complained.

"Dylan. Shut up," I commanded. He obeyed, though whether that was due to my tone of voice, or his contempt at my words, I wasn't really sure.

I grinned suddenly, reaching out blindly with one hand. My fingers ran across the rough, gritty wood of the support beam. It formed the shape of an 'x' alongside another, and between the space below them, the silver of a door, partially disguised as a heating duct, was barely visible.

"You should have more faith in me," I reprimanded my companion, before tugging on the handle. It eased open with a sigh, blowing out a cool, musty breeze. I wrinkled my nose at the stench.

Dylan blew out a heavy breath. "Yeah, I guess I should."

I rolled my eyes, before proceeding to shimmy my way into the compact space. The four walls were pressing down on me from every side. Each of my shoulders brushed against the icy metal, and my hair rustled where it slid across the ceiling. Clouds of dust rose from everywhere, the force of our breath stirring the long resting cover. Behind me, Dylan sneezed loudly.

A few paces later, we slid out into a much larger space. The floor separated another foot or so from the ceiling, giving us more walking room. I had to arch my back awkwardly, with my neck hunched in an uncomfortable way. Last time I had been exploring up here, I had been _significantly_ smaller.

"How is this even possible? How does Anne _not_ know about this?" Dylan asked insistently. The awe in his voice was barely suppressed, and I could tell he was marginally impressed with my knowledge.

"There are plenty of things Anne doesn't know. Things only one person ever did. Excluding me, of course," I explained, running a lone finger through the dust caking the wall. I could feel the pressure of it swirling around my hand and through the musty, thick air.

After a thoughtful moment, Dylan resumed his questioning. "Would that other person be your father?"

I swallowed, refraining from answering. He knew.

"Max," Dylan said, a note of compassion in his voice. "He did good things."

I snorted in contempt. "Yeah, and now he's dead."

"I know. But you never talk about him, and it's not good for you. I-"

"Dylan. Drop it," I ordered harshly, actual venom seeping into my tone. When concerning the matter of my dad, I didn't necessarily feel up to sharing my emotions. He had died years ago. I was fine. There was nothing else to it.

Blissfully, not another word was spoken between the two of us for the remainder of our venture. The hollow thumps of our footsteps echoed dramatically through the ever-expanding vault before us. Other than the occassional cough or sneeze, nothing else.

It was just that, Dylan was all empathetic and caring. It was annoying. Appreciated, on certain occasions, but mostly annoying. He was all for expressing your feelings and not bottling anything up inside. What a _girl_.

"Here we are," I announced suddenly, coming to a halt. Not anticipating my movement, Dylan continued walking right into my back. I stumbled a step, bracing our combined weight. He mumbled a quick apology, righting himself as best as he could in the confined area. It was too dark for him to see my glare, but I'm sure he was getting my hostile vibes.

"Here is . . . where, exactly?" he inquired, dipping his head closer to mine.

I stifled a sigh, turning my shoulder. "You ask an awful lot of questions, don't you?" I reciprocated, running careful fingers over the lock I cradled in my hand.

"It's part of my charm," he answered with the shuffle of a shrug. I could imagine he was wearing an incredibly smug look, as well. "But really, where are we?"

After rotating the dial a few times, I waiting impatiently for the sound of a click, relying heavily on my memory. It hadn't really occurred to me until just then, that I might have forgotten all the combinations. My doubt dwindled into nothing, though, as the tumblers inside the mechanism began sliding into place. With a barely audible hiss of disuse, the door groaned outward.

"Pick your poison." I gestured grandly, grinning in triumph.

The weapon's room was something of incredible novelty. Probably considered the pride and joy of most hunters. Anything sharp or destructive -and I mean _anything_- could be, most likely, found here. From the mundane to exotic, anything you needed to chase down a paranormal was within reach.

It was the size of a warehouse; all cold, gleaming metal. Shelves towered to the ceilings, displaying all sorts of weaponry.

Normally, you entered from three distinct vantage points. One from Anne's personal office, another from the disguised cleaning closet we had attempted to enter from, and the third playing as a bathroom near the housing quarters. Each required a certain code. If you didn't know the password, there was a good chance you weren't supposed to even be in the building in the first place.

Or they were just trying to ruin your fun, which I was quite familiar with.

The entrance we had taken, however, was considerably less accomodating than the others. You know, since they were on floor level . . . and at the moment we were on the top of one of said towering shelves. Heights, on the other hand, had never bothered me.

"If you think I'm jumping off this thing, you're wrong. I'll break every bone in my body. _You'll _break every bone in your body," Dylan grumbled, folding his arms across his muscular chest, while he glanced disdainfully downwards.

I snorted, shooting him a disbelieving look. He raised an eyebrow in response, as if daring me to argue that it wasn't a plausible warning when concerning me. I shook my head at his expression, fighting the urge to roll my eyes. Then, to prove I wasn't as crazy as he thought, I hopped over to the edge of the shelving unit . . . and dropped out of his sight.

"_MAX_," he hissed in panic, diving over to where I had disappeared. His golden locks flipped haphazardly into his eyes, vibrant color flaming up his neck. The muscles in his arms were tense as he gripped the edge.

"What?" I questioned coyly, sarcastically gaping up at him. His expression darkened instantaneously, as I gripped the rung of the ladder I was resting on. "Did I scare you?"

"Just go," he spat sullenly, lowering himself down above me.

I stifled a laugh, biting my lip to conceal the smug smile I was harboring. "Were you worried about me?"

"You've got some nerve," he muttered under his breath, but the words traveled easily to my ears.

"Did you think I had jumped to my untimely death?" I teased, recalling the image of his beet red face, eyes alight with horror.

"Oh, shut up," he commanded, 'accidentally' stepping on my hand. The little baby. Though, I guess it wouldn't be as much fun for me if he could actually take a joke.

Despite my joy at seeing him squirm, I ceased my mocking. An embarrassed Dylan wasn't good for hunting. He'd just be distracted, intending to find an insult in everything I said to him. You couldn't catch a thing with him all hostile and moody-like. He'd send every paranormal within a ten mile radius fleeing.

When my feet touched the floor, I immediately went on alert. Most hunters would be gone already, but you never knew who could be lurking in the shadows. Fortunately for us, Anne was too prideful of her security to suspect us of breaking and entering.

Dylan nudged my shoulder, indicating the direction he was going. I nodded, already heading off to a different area. My braid swung behind my back, as I stalked purposefully towards the wall. Brightly lit displays hosted a large collection of knives. I slung a few perfectly sharpened ones into my belt, before stocking up on other essential items. Wooden stakes, shots of Holy water, silver bullets; the usual.

When I turned back towards where I had come from, Dylan was swinging around the corner. He had put a black leather jacket on, and a tube of arrows was strapped around his torso. There was a serious look in his turquoise eyes, one that had previously been masked by the dullness surrounding us.

"You ready to go?" he asked.

I smirked. "_So _many questions. Why don't you start talking less, and doing more. Now, let's get out of here. We have some monsters to kill."


	4. Chapter Four

**Equinox**

_**Chapter Four**_

The pale moon hung low, suspended in the deep blue of night. Sparse stars winked in and out of existence. A thin layer of snow crunched under foot, revealing the wilted grass and dirt beneath. Our tracks mingled with others, making it impossible to discern in which direction we were heading.

A bitter cold slithered across the surface of our bodies, but a fire of adrenaline and excitement coursed hot within. The plummeting temperature was the least of our worries. After all, the forest would be alive with creatures that tempted our fates.

"Most of the hunters will have been dispatched into the city and surrounding suburbs. Protecting the citizens, and all. Not many will actually be wandering through the woods. It's safe for us to seek out prey here," I decided, thinking aloud; albeit very quietly.

Dylan hummed his approval, stalking along beside me. His eyes twitched spastically, as he glanced all around the perimeter. I usually let him do most of the watching. Both of us had exceptional eyesight, but his was just way, _way _more advanced. Even so, neither of us could afford to let our guard down. All of my senses were on high alert, spanning the distance around us for any casualties.

The night was quiet, though. Besides the swish of our clothing, there were no rustles to be heard amongst the trees. The wind was at a standstill, and all the nocturnal animals that should have been prowling around were silent. This, of course, meant that something abnormal had taken their place.

We just had to determine where, exactly, that was.

"This isn't safe," Dylan whispered, lowering his lips to my ear. His breath tickled the sensitive skin there, and I wrinkled my nose in discomfort. "We shouldn't just be walking out here, completely exposed. We have to find a good, guarded place to hunker down and wait."

That was the difference between Dylan and I. He was . . . patient. I wasn't. He was . . . rational. I wasn't. That's what made us such compatible hunting partners. He could keep me out of trouble, and I could actually get something _done_. It was a full circle.

"You're right," I admitted with a sigh. "We're never going to catch anything like this. Most likely, _we'll_ get caught."

"Let's just hide down by the ravine. It's perfect. Tons of paranormals cross it to get to the city," he suggested.

"Yeah, but won't there be hunters there?" I pointed out doubtfully.

"Maybe at the parts closest to where the people are. That doesn't necessarily mean all the paranormals will choose that path," he explained assuredly, looking down at me in the muted light.

Sometimes it was convenient when he knew all the answers.

"Lead the way," I conceded, gritting my teeth. I didn't like putting other people in charge. It wasn't like anything was set in stone, but there had always been this unsaid agreement that _I_ was the leader. I made the important decisions. That's how it had always went.

Dylan knew that, too, which is probably why he had such a smug expression upon stepping in front of me. My fingers curled into fists, and I had to strongly refrain from socking him in the mouth. What a prick.

Our trek from there was made in ethereal silence, combated by nothing but the frigid air we breathed. Any steps made were quick and soundless. At such a pace, it took only a few scant minutes to reach our desired destination. Wordlessly, we split to survey the area.

It became apparent that the surrounding land had been undisturbed. The steep enclosure of the ravine was rocky and slick with icicles. Any semblance of a stream that had run through it was frozen solid. From such a vantage point, any form of civilization seemed millions of miles away.

In reality, it wasn't even miles from where my boots were planted firmly on the snow.

"You go up on the opposite bank. Find some bushes to hide in or something, that way you can keep watch for anything approaching from the forest. I'll stay down here," I ordered, processing the best means of strategy.

Dylan appeared from the gloom of the trees, nodding his head in agreement. Without comment, he disappeared. I could hear slight, meager rustles as he moved. The flash of his silver bow winked from his general direction, then nothing more.

Stillness once again reigned supreme.

I brought my hands up, rubbing my palms together to create some sort of friction. Now that we had stopped moving, the cold was beginning to seep into my bones. The weathered mound of boulders I was crouched behind did little to diverge the frigid wind that had begun whispering through the ravine. I huddled with my knees pulled close to my chest, vainly hoping the fetal position would offer some respite from the icy atmosphere.

Hunkered down as comfortably as possible, our wait began.

As much as it seemed like an endless number of hours, it didn't actually take that long for something to stumble into our trap. One unmistakable crunch of snow under foot, and every part of my being was synapsed into focus. From my vantage point, I couldn't see a thing. Dylan could, though. He'd take the first shot, and then I'd finish off the kill.

My breathing stilled, muscles taught in anticipation. The crouch I had been in turned into a battle stance, my legs burning to leap from my hiding place. My entire thought process was focused on the sounds I could hear coming from the depths of the forest.

A paranormal was coming; the power of the solstice giving it strength unlike anything we had come across as of yet. In that one moment, a brief flicker of doubt entered my mind. I quickly banished it.

I could do anything, especially what people like Anne said I couldn't accomplish.

There was an animalistic snuffle from the lip of the ravine, and the sound of clusters of dirt and snow tumbling down its side. Soon after, the stench of wet, matted fur hit my nostrils. Luckily, I had heard only one set of footsteps. One werewolf I could handle. Easily. Any more than that, and we might have had a problem.

The sharp twang of Dylan's bow was my cue. I reacted within a split second of its departure, darting from my shelter. My vision filled with the immense size of the now snarling beast in front of me. Dylan's silver arrow was buried deep in its shoulder, the mottled brown fur beginning to sizzle around it. The werewolf's growl deepened, yellow canines barred. The pain seemed to only infuriate him further.

"Down boy," I ordered tauntingly, waving an admonishing hand at him.

Another feral sound emitted deep from the wolf's throat. His hind legs rotated to a crouch beneath him, and the ferocious glare in his eyes increased. I ducked and rolled in his direction just as he pounced.

The bristly fur on his tail swept across my back, as he rocketed through the air. I could feel the thud of his weight shudder through the ground as he landed, quickly swooping back around to face me.

"Bad dog!" I reprimanded, my grin widening. My insults were met with growing animosity.

We circled each other in the limited space of the ravine. Blood dripped from the werewolf's wound, but his black eyes remained fixated on my form. Whether it was his strategy or not, my patience was wearing thin.

Without any indication of my actions, I dove across the no man's land that had formed between us. The knife sheathed at my waist was free in that same fluid motion. There was no time for the wolf to react properly. It bayed in anguish, my weapon slicing cleanly to the hilt in his chest.

I expected him to collapse; fall back at the very least. Instead, one of his massive, powerful paws reared up and batted me to the side like a rag doll. My back crushed against the wall of the ravine, and I slumped limply to the ground. A steady fire kindled all throughout my body.

I gritted my teeth, wincing at the pain. Through slitted eyes I watched the werewolf lunge at my fallen form. I struggled to stand, but my body was soon pinned to the cold snow. The wolf reeked of decay, his breath hot as his muzzle hovered dangerously above my head. He snapped his razor sharp teeth tauntingly, almost grinning in satisfaction.

There was a flash of something bright out of the corner of my eye, then another in quick succession. Suddenly, the werewolf's neck lulled to the side, and his weight became unbearable on top of mine. My heart started to thump rapidly in my chest, my throat constricting. Suffocation became a very near reality.

My stricken thoughts were interrupted, the heaviness of the creature disappearing. I continued to lay on the ground, letting the blissfully cool air wash over me. When I managed to open my eyes again, Dylan's worried face blotted out the moon and stars.

"_Max_. Max! Are you okay?" he demanded, turquoise eyes shadowed in concern.

"I'm fine," I insisted, rolling my eyes at his overly dramatic expression. I brushed his hands away, sitting up slowly. Gingerly, I rotated all my limbs, checking for any breaks. Other than a couple nasty bruises, I was perfectly okay.

Dylan rocked back on his heels, his blonde hair fluttering onto his forehead. "How many times have I told you not to tease the paranormals?"

"Chill, _Mom_," I retorted snarkily, scrambling to my feet.

A rustle from somewhere high up in the trees had me spinning quickly around. My eyes narrowed, honing in on a vague, dark mass perched at the top of one of the towering pines. From just behind me, I could see Dylan sling an arrow back, taking aim.

"Wait. It's just a-" I began to speak, but before I could get the word 'bird' out, the arrow was already whizzing through the chilled night air.

There was an obvious impact, followed by more rustling sounds, then the undeniable flapping of wings. I shot Dylan an 'I told you so' glare, before gazing back up again. From the place where the bird had been, an object was floating lazily down to the earth.

I reached up, plucking the small, thin black feather from the air. It slid softly across the pad of my finger, downy and light. When Dylan glanced away, I pocketed it.

"We should head back," I announced, a cold, lingering wind bristling through the trees; setting me on edge. An ominous feeling had settled in the pit of my stomach, and instinct was pushing me back to the CSM headquarters.

"So soon?" Dylan's eyebrows lifted in surprise.

The weary expression on my face must have been enough to convince him, because he followed my retreating back without another question.


	5. Chapter Five

**Equinox**

_**Chapter Five**_

For a good, solid ten minutes, I almost thought we had gotten away with no repercussions. We had snuck back into the facility without tripping any alarms, or being sensed by unwanted eyes. The absence of security was strange, but convenient.

We had only just settled back into the lounge room when there was a brisk tap at the door.

Dylan and I exchanged a look, and Gazzy snickered from the floor. His curly blonde hair formed a halo around his sniggering face, illuminated by the blue-ish glow emanating from his handheld gaming device. He seemed a lot less bitter about us ditching him, now that he knew we were going to be punished.

The door clicked, sighing inward. I recognized the person standing on the threshold as one of the secretaries. A pen was stuck behind her ear, and a permanent scowl was etched between her eyebrows. Folders hung loosely under her arm, like we had just interrupted her work.

"Mrs. Walker wishes to speak with you," she informed us monotonously, then turned on her heel. The resounding slap of her shoes could be heard clattering down the hallway, until eventually I got tired of listening.

Dylan sighed, untangling his limbs and coming to a stand. He offered his hand to me, but I brushed it aside and hauled my body upright. Gazzy flashed us a brilliant smile from where he was laying on his stomach across the floor. I chose to begin ignoring the snide remarks I was sure to be receiving from him the next couple weeks.

Hardening my expression, I squared my shoulders to Anne's office. No words passed between Dylan and I on the walk there. Talking wasn't necessary. We couldn't exactly make an excuse for ourselves. We were the ones who tagged the werewolf. There were no carefully cultivated lies that could cover that up.

Still, listening to her rant was going to seriously impose on the night's victory . . . Not to mention bore me to near death.

When we reached her door, I didn't pause to shoulder it open. She wouldn't expect me to knock, and I wasn't going to give her the courtesy. Dylan sidled in behind me, nudging the wood shut.

Anne's familiar blonde head was bent over a neat stack of papers. She was scribbling something on one of the sheets, her other hand reaching up to tuck a loose strand behind her ear. I waited with arms crossed, until she finally looked up at us.

Her expression was oddly serene, with a subtle flicker of exhaustion in her eyes. For a moment that seemed to stretch on for eternity. She simply studied our battle-worn stance, and the expectant curve of our every feature. Just as my patience had fizzled to its detonation point, she opened her mouth to speak.

"First, let me congratulate you. From your lack of injury, and the tagging report, you two seemed to have managed your first solstice kill without a flaw. It's admirable. Most don't fair quite so well," she admitted, something akin to pride sliding into her tone.

My eyes couldn't help but narrow. If she was getting the good news out of the way first, then the bad was soon to follow.

"However," she conceded, "your blatant disregard of my orders can not, and _will not_, pass without consequence. There's a reason I decided not to let you two wander out on your own, and that very well could have been compromised had you not returned as soon as you did.

"I understand that this day - this event - has been glorified to you since the moment you started your training. I also recognize that you will, one day, be the very best hunters this establishment has ever seen. But as of now, you are still young; too young to be put on the front-lines of a terrible war that has been waging since the dawn of time.

"On countless occasions, you've been witness to the stories told about solstice nights, and the power it holds over all paranormal creatures. Their strength is increased tenfold, and for that reason they're that much more of a formidable opponent. I shudder to think of what the outcome could have been, had you come across a pack of werewolves, versus just the one."

I interrupted her then, unable to hold my tongue. "But we didn't. We ambushed the single wolf, and we did a good job. Had there been a pack, we would have handled it in the best way we could. That wouldn't change, no matter how old we were."

"I stand by my decision," she said calmly, rising to her feet. Her palms flattened against the waxy surface of her desk, and her eyes slanted palpably. "And as long as it's my decision, you'll abide to it as well. That's _final_."

"This isn't even about the Winter Solstice being 'too dangerous' for us to hunt during," I quipped scathingly, taking a menacing step forward. Dylan's hand curled around my bicep, gripping me in place. "This is about control, and your lack thereof."

She laughed, shooting me a menacing smile. "I _will _have control, Maximum. You surely won't disrupt that. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a lot of work to do. You're dismissed."

I was out in the corridor in a second, her office door slamming so hard it shook behind me. Dylan leaned casually against the wall, examining me as I paced. When most of my steam had worn off, I seethed silently, heading in the direction of the housing quarters. Dylan fell into step beside me, his piercing turquoise eyes peeking at me from between strands of sandy hair.

"Something else is going on. I just don't know what," I concluded, biting my bottom lip. I tugged at the sleeve of my gray jacket, noting the filth of the ravine floor that was layered on it.

"What do you mean?" Dylan inquired.

"Anne wouldn't actually be this upset about us hunting during the solstice. A kill is a kill to her, no matter when, who, or where. And, in case you hadn't noticed,_ no one _is here," I exclaimed, extending my arms to make a wide gesture at the ghostly emptiness of the hall. "No matter what, there are always hunters that stay behind to guard the fort. Yet I haven't seen a single hunter since we entered the weapons room. All of them have been dispatched, and that's unusual."

Dylan nodded thoughtfully, then: "You might be looking too far into this. Maybe they're all hanging out together somewhere, or maybe they did all go hunting. That doesn't necessarily mean there's some grand scheme behind it."

"I'm telling you, something's changed . . . and I'm going to find out what. Trust me," I vowed through gritted teeth.

"You know I'm with you on whatever crazy venture you decide to follow. Somebody's got to hang around and make sure you don't get yourself hurt," Dylan joked, grinning with his ultra-white teeth. "But we should wait to start on that tomorrow. I need sleep."

With that, I had to agree.

-o-o-o-

The next day I awoke at the ungodly hour of eight in morning. Light from the corridor seeped under the crack of the door, eating an arching path across the carpeted floor. Since the housing quarters were located in the part of the building that was underground, there were no windows to offer much more lumination.

I curled the edge of the blanket into my hand, stretching out onto my back. The ceiling was indiscernible; still shaded by darkness. Minutes ticked on and on, until I finally managed to separate my body from the warmth it had previously engaged.

Tripping over the assorted items strewn across my bedroom floor, I searched for the light switch. Eventually, my grasping fingers came in contact with it, and the small space was flooded with a yellow glaze. Yawning, I then continued to fumble my way to the closet. Without much thought as to what I would end up wearing, I yanked down a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.

Once I was dressed, I tended to the pile of clothes still clumped together where I had dropped them late last night. Just as I was about to toss them into a hamper, an object half hanging from the pocket of my pants caught my attention. Gently, I pulled it loose, letting the feather flutter into my open palm.

A moment later I turned to the aging desk in the corner. After rummaging around in one of the drawers, I managed to produce a thin silver chain. By some miracle, I was able to hook the feather to it; then fastened it around my neck. It hung loosely, and I tucked it away beneath my shirt.

No need to give Dylan and Gazzy incentive to make fun of my taste in accessories.

Before leaving, I grabbed a thick jacket; similar to the one I had worn last night. I would need something warm when we went out today . . . Because we _would _go out today. I didn't care what Anne had to say about it.

I approached the boys' room slowly, combing my hair out of its braid as I walked. My usually straight hair fell in dark blonde waves around my shoulders, and the sudden weight felt heavy on my back. It was getting long, and I knew I'd get it chopped soon enough.

My musings were jolted into reality by the sudden sight of a sleepy looking Dylan. His golden hair was mussed around his head, only worsening with the fingers he now ran lazily through it. My heart thumped painfully; a sensation I was _not _accustomed to.

At all.

The moment was broken quickly by the smell that wafted after him. Coughing, I covered my nose with a grimace. Gazzy was obviously active and about as well.

"He's under the impression that, now that the solstice is over, he's been granted permission to trail along after us as he normally does. I didn't have the heart to deter him," Dylan explained with a smile.

"I don't trail," Gazzy scoffed, appearing suddenly in the doorway. He was dressed for cold weather, right down to the green cap fit snugly around his ears. "I just tend to join you at a distance. There's a difference."

I couldn't help but laugh, my spirits lifting.

"Well, you're welcome to tag along. We're not hunting today. After last night, I think a bit of relaxation is in order. We're simply going to become one with nature," I replied condescendingly, a grin gracing my lips.

"Does Anne know about this little nature walk?" Dylan asked, an absence of true concern in his voice.

I laughed even harder. "Does Anne _need _to know?"


	6. Chapter Six

**Equinox**

_**Chapter Six**_

A snowball whizzed past my ear, so close I could hear the ice crunching in it. I ducked quickly, rolling with the momentum until I was tucked safely behind a tree. The cold air stung my lungs, as I breathed in deeply. Sometime during the frame in which we had reported back to the CSM building, the snow had piled on a few extra inches.

It didn't take long for one of us to discover how thick and sticky it had become.

I liked to assume the reason Dylan and Gazzy teamed up against me was because I was the most dangerous opponent. In reality, it was only a simple game of boys against girls. I just happened to be the only girl present.

Hooray.

Regardless, I continued to build up my arsenal. Despite the numbness that was creeping into my fingers, a pile of snowballs was building at my feet. After carefully shaping the last lump in my hand, I paused to listen.

There was an unmistakable sound of scrabbling feet, heading in my direction. Without sparing a thought towards the missing link, I scooped up my weapons, and engaged in battle.

Gazzy lurched to a halt when I leaped from my shelter. Before he could gather his bearings, I unleashed a furious hail of snow on him. He blocked what he could, dipping and jumping across the clearing. When the last snowball flung from my hand, I was sure I could claim victory.

My smile had just reached its farthest point when I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. I whipped around in time to be slammed onto the ground, pinned there by the heavy weight of Dylan's body. We wrestled for an undetermined amount of time, grappling between the two of us, with Gazzy's chants of encouragement waging in the background.

Eventually my breath began coming painfully fast, and I executed a maneuver that smashed Dylan's face straight into the hard-packed snow, his arms twisted around his back.

"Give up yet?" I whispered tauntingly, lowering my mouth to his ear. He wriggled uselessly, giving somewhat of a nod.

After one last triumphant moment, I freed him. We both clamored to our feet, beginning to sweat through the cold. All three of us were dripping with melted snow, our hair saturated with the messy slush. Gazzy's hat had long ago been lost.

"We should probably go before we catch hypothermia or something," Dylan suggested, his keen eye easily catching the shiver that wracked my spine.

"I wouldn't mind some hot chocolate and a nice fire," Gazzy agreed, shaking his head like a wet dog. I dodged the droplets that rained outwards from it.

I nodded. "Alright. Let's head back. Anne is probably having a freaking cow by now anyway."

We had barely taken three steps in the direction of headquarters when a snap, followed by a harsh thump, infiltrated my senses. I whirled quickly, my gaze honing in on the area the sound had come from. Dylan stilled beside me, pushing Gazzy back gently.

We had been making a lot of noise. _A lot_. In fact, it wouldn't surprise me if we had alerted every paranormal within a mile radius of our location. It seemed likely that we would scare them off, though. Not attract them. Not a day after the Winter Solstice, and most _certainly _not in the middle of the day.

"Cover my back," I commanded under my breath. Dylan nodded, sliding behind me. Gazzy, despite his brave talk, had a minute look of fear on his face.

Of course, we hadn't come totally unarmed. Even against all the odds, we weren't stupid. We were still in the middle of the forest, with no one around to help us. Any number of accidents could occur.

In any case, I was always prepared for the inevitable.

Slowly, and as silently as possible, I crept forward. There wasn't much more noise coming from whatever creature had stumbled across our path. I could hear it breathing, though; ragged and much too fast.

In pain.

My hand flew to rest on the hilt of the knife sheathed at my waist. There wasn't a powerful enough scent coming off for me to discern what kind of _thing_ it was. It just smelled . . . very in need of a shower. _ Very_.

I paused briefly, gathering my bearings. I could still feel Dylan hovering over my shoulder, Gazzy not too far behind. Reassured that they were there, I proceeded to act; swiftly stepping into view.

I was prepared to fight; to defend myself against an attacker. I was _not_, on the other hand, prepared to halt in disbelief.

It was a boy, probably around my age. His hair was inky black, curled around his chin and plastered to his dirt-ridden forehead. The sinewy chords of his arms tensed as I came into sight, but he didn't move from where he crouched on his knees. Depthless, dark eyes turned to bore into mine. He remained expressionless and stone-faced.

"What is it?" Gazzy murmured.

"Is he a fairy?" Dylan asked brusquely, coming to stand beside me. His stature was relaxed. Apparently, he didn't see the boy as a threat.

His comment puzzled me, until I finally caught sight of the raven colored feathers protruding from the boy's back. They appeared to be somewhat folded wings. Instantly, my hand flew to my throat, where I knew the black feather was resting against my skin.

"I've never seen one with actual feathered wings," I pointed out, my gaze never leaving the boy's striking stare.

Dylan grunted. "There's a first time for everything."

"He's not one of the fay," I remarked decidedly. "His bone structure is too human." His skin was too olive toned as well. Fairy's were either unnaturally pale, or occasionally just unnaturally colored.

"Then what kind of paranormal is he? Because I sure don't know," Dylan hedged, an alien sort of malice creeping into his tone.

Anger flashed quickly in the boy's eyes, before flickering back into darkness. He struggled to stand, leaning on a nearby tree trunk for support. Unconsciously, I stepped forward.

"Are you guys insane?" I started at the sound of his voice; somehow rough and molten smooth at the same time.

Instead of answering his question, I concluded: "I don't think he's a paranormal at all. At least, not something the CSM has ever cataloged."

"Paranormal? CSM? What the hell are you even talking about?" he demanded gruffly, a ripple passing through his muscular arm. I could see his jaw clenching and unclenching, and his breathing continued in short bursts; revealing his affliction.

I strode closer, my boots crunching in the fallen snow beneath. He watched me cautiously, but didn't move. My scrutinizing glare swept over him, searching for the source of his discomfort. Through the awkward overlap of his wings, I surveyed a point at which the feathers clumped together. The browning crimson of dried blood was evident.

Once again, my fingers lingered over the place where the feather brushed against my chest. I thought back to last night, and the dark mass perched high in the trees. It hadn't been apparent to me then, but from so far away, any bird would have been considerably smaller . . .

"You were there last night, weren't you?" I inquired softly, running my fingers through my thick blonde locks. It kept my hands busy, as they itched to reach out and touch the boy's wings.

He nodded mutely.

"Dylan shot you with one of his arrows."

It wasn't a question. He didn't have to respond.

"What's your name?" It was a simple thing to ask, yet he seemed to hesitate, as if trying to determine whether or not he could trust me with even that.

Finally, he opened his mouth and spoke. "Fang. They call me Fang."

_Fang_. It suited him; mysterious and dark.

"I'm Max, and this is Dylan and Gazzy. We're going to get to know each other a lot more, because you obviously need some medical assistance, and I know the perfect person to help," I assured him, though he looked anything but enthused. The blank mask he was wearing seemed to solidify further.

"Thanks for the offer, but I don't need your help," he replied, positioning his body as if he was going to walk away.

"I didn't ask." Stubbornness began creeping through my system. "And besides, your wing won't survive long with that kind of injury. If it's not treated soon, you'll have to chop it off so infection won't spread to the rest of your body. After all, it'll only be dead weight by then. Totally useless."

My venomous tact seemed to be working, judging by the way his wiry frame went instantly rigid at the thought.

"Come on," I said, this time more gently. "I know a _great _vet. She'll patch you right up."


	7. Chapter Seven

**Equinox **

_**Chapter Seven**_

I shifted awkwardly, staring straight down at my shoes. The tip of my boot cut invisible patterns on the floor, and my fingers began drumming restlessly on the counter I was leaning on. To cease their movement, I tucked them across my chest, curling my fingers around the thin fabric of my shirt.

Silence encompassed every particle of smothering space in the lab room. Even worse, I could feel Fang's obsidian gaze observing me from where he was sitting on the sterilized surface of the examination table. Since the moment we had arrived, not a word had been spoken . . . and his eyes had never left my form.

It made me squirm with self consciousness . . . and I had never been self conscious. Ever.

Now, I could sense all the little things about my body. My damp, limp hair. The dirt crusted under my fingernails. My baggy, incredibly un-form fitting t-shirt. The sweat, mingled with other undesirable odors emanating from me (not that my scent was anything compared to his).

The lone black feather - _his _feather - still suspended around my neck burned worst of all. Not that he could feasibly know it was there, but _I _knew it was. That made it so much the worse.

Finally, his surveillance seemed almost patronizing, and I didn't deal well with patronization.

"_What are you looking at_?" I lashed out, my temper flaring. My head snapped up, brown eyes meeting his own much darker ones. He didn't seem startled by my sudden movement, or the glare I was sending his way. If anything, he looked amused.

"You," he said simply, unashamed. There was a kind of intoxicating intensity with which he stared that made my legs turn to mush.

"Well . . . stop," I muttered, at a loss for words.

His upper lip twitched slightly, but was immediately replaced with a blank mask.

"Does it hurt much?" I asked, changing the subject. I nodded to his injured wing, which was now hanging more loosely from his back.

He glanced back at it, giving me a welcome break from his unyielding focus. I jumped slightly when the feathers rustled, extending even more. Fang paled considerably at the movement, and his lips were pressed into a hard line. The wound was more visible now, and glistening with fresh blood. He would most likely need stitches. Dylan very rarely missed his mark, and this particular arrow had hit home.

"She should be here any minute. You'll be in good hands," I assured him, though that only seemed to intensify how tense he was.

He nodded all the same, dropping his gaze to his callous, scarred hands. It was the first opportunity I had to really study him, and I didn't let it go to waste.

His hair splayed in a perfect disarray around his head, streaked through with dirt. Lean muscle was wound tightly all throughout his body, and visible scars peeked from underneath his clothing. Everything about his features seemed shaped and weathered, like he had been living in the wild for some time.

I hated to even think it, but the fact was undeniable. He was kind of . . . beautiful.

"What are you looking at?" he mocked me, raising an eyebrow. My eyes widened, and I wondered furiously how long he had been watching me . . . watch him. The thought made me cringe.

"I don't know what's taking her so long, but we should probably get as prepared as possible. You'll need to take your shirt off," I pointed out, without sparing a thought to the certain consequence of my words.

"You want me to take my shirt off?" he gloated, unable to hide his smirk this time. Impossibly, it seemed to make him even more infuriatingly attractive.

"No . . . I . . . I just," I spluttered, stuttering over all my words. "Keep your shirt _on_!"

My face flamed, red burning up the side of my neck. I couldn't even pause at the foreign sensation. I had never blushed before; had never had any _reason _to. Yet here I was, pink as a freaking pig.

His smirk grew, and he tugged at the worn edge of his black t-shirt. Before I could look away, he had pulled it effortlessly up over his head, carefully maneuvering it around his afflicted wing. As expected, his torso only encouraged my embarrassment.

Just as I was about to, oh- I don't know, crumple to the ground in complete and utter mortification, the door swung open. A gust of cool air followed it, which managed to alleviate some of the heat in my cheeks.

A familiar figure moved into the lab room. She smiled first at me, then very warmly at Fang. His amusement had all but vanished, turning stony at the change in events.

"This is Fang," I said by way of introducing him. Then I turned to address him and said, "This is Dr. Martinez. She's going to try to save your wing. You can thank her later."

He looked anything but thankful.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to take a closer look at it." Dr. M paused at Fang's side, snapping a pair of gloves into place. She waited for his permission before continuing.

After a few seconds, he nodded stiffly.

She proceeded to do her vet thing, and I watched from a safe distance. I still had no idea if Fang could be trusted, therefore I _certainly _wasn't leaving him alone with one of the only genuinely good adults in the administration. Whether or not I could stomach a needle was another matter entirely.

Instead, I attempted to focus on _anything _other than what was happening in front of me; like the apparent fact that we had interrupted Dr. M's free time. Usually, she was either wearing scrubs or a lab coat. At the present moment, she was clad in jeans and a sweater. I felt bad, but Fang needed help. Fast.

My mind drifted, and as she worked I day dreamed about the lavish stories that would begin circulating as the other hunters shared their solstice stories. When I was younger, I'd stay up way too late, hiding so that I could hear them talk about their kills. I'd fall asleep to the steady reassurance that paranormals wouldn't be hurting me or _anybody _else. That was a long time ago though, and I wasn't quite so naive now.

Nothing was ever as perfect as it seemed. Solstices were their own sort of monstrosity.

"All done," Dr. M announced, looping my attention back to reality. "You'll need to stay off it for a few weeks. If you put too much stress on it, the wound will tear the stitches and re-open. Give it time to heal, and you'll be back to normal."

Fang nodded wordlessly, brushing a finger over the gauze wrapped tightly around his wing.

With another smile in my direction, Dr. M disappeared through the door just as she had come. I knew there would be questions later, but for now she'd leave things as they were. Enough strange paranormals came through the CSM. She was used to an assortment of winged creatures. Fang probably hadn't fazed her in the slightest. It was the part about keeping the transaction a secret that would pique her interest.

"Come on," I gestured to Fang, heading for the door. "Let's find you some clean clothes . . . and a shower."

-o-o-o-

I slumped comfortably on my bed, waiting for Fang to finish in the bathroom. There was a pile of neatly folded clothes at my feet. Luckily, Dylan was roughly the same size as Fang. He probably wouldn't miss the few things I had snatched from his closet . . . probably.

A door creaked open, and Fang emerged from the it. His hair was wet and dripping down his neck; a towel slung around his waist. I indicated the clothes, averting my eyes from his nakedness as best as I could. Though I was no longer looking directly at him, I could feel the condescending smirk riddled across his lips.

He appeared minutes later, this time fully dressed. I had done my best to find clothing similar to that of his before. The dark gray shirt was a little too loose, Dylan being bulkier than he. The jeans fit fine though, and the black jacket and coat would keep him warm during the remainder of winter.

"Do you have everything you need?" I asked, coming to my feet. He stood across from me, a good few inches taller than me; and I was _pretty _tall.

He nodded. It was becoming clearer and clearer that he was a man of very few words.

"So . . . what now?" I inquired, slipping a stray lock of dark blonde hair behind my ear. There were so many questions burning up inside of me; things I wanted to ask about him . . . about who and _what_ he was. No one had ever interested me quite as much as he.

He was . . . different. I had never encountered someone like him, and it wasn't like me to just let such a complex enigma walk away. Everything about our meeting had happened much too fast, and I still knew virtually nothing about him.

"Now . . . I leave," he stated, no emotion behind his words. There was an immense brick wall built up inside of him; a barrier I was quickly becoming sure I could overcome.

"That's it?" I couldn't hide my incredulous expression.

"Thanks. For everything. But I need to go." He didn't seem to be partial to a further explanation.

"You don't _need _to leave. You could always stay here. I'm _sure _you'd be better of than wherever it is that you came from," I replied insistently. A frown twisted its way onto my face, my brow furrowed.

He just shook his head in response.

"So you're just going to walk out, and we're never going to see a feather of yours again?" I knew this wasn't true. I had one of his feathers hanging right around my neck, but the example was still effective.

"You don't know me. Not a thing about me or where I came from. But you helped me. And . . . as much as I appreciate that, it still doesn't change a thing." He appeared to be struggling with his words, unable to provide the adequate emotion.

The room seemed a lot smaller now, and the absence of windows more pronounced.

"I'm never going to see you again?"

He paused, flashing me one last smirk. "Only if you're lucky"


	8. Chapter Eight

**Equinox **

_**Chapter Eight**_

For the following few weeks, there was rarely a moment I couldn't be found mulling over the conundrum that was Fang. My daily life was filled with vampires, werewolves and other mystical beings; the very definition of _strange_. Now that something even more mystifying had entered the picture, there was nothing I could do to stop myself from pursuing it.

The root of my curiosity spawned from the conclusion that never, in my many years of schooling, had there ever been mention of a paranormal creature such as Fang. There was a wide margin between he and the fairies, and no other winged beings matched his description either. From what I could tell, he appeared . . . human (aside from the whole wings thing, of course).

Random species of supernatural beings didn't just pop up, though. Yet I had come in contact with someone who verged dangerously between that thin veil . . . and he had sauntered away before I could even create the slightest hypothesis.

To sum it all up, I was driving myself insane.

Anne, after learning that we had left the base that day, had strictly prohibited us from so much as stepping foot outside. Apparently, preventing us from hunting was her punishment of choice. However, even _she _could observe how discernibly restless I was becoming. Evidently, she surmised that it was in the best interest of everyone on the premise that I was liberated.

No doubt, she considered the havoc I would assuredly wreak on the commiserable employees of the CSM.

At least, that's what I assumed upon catching word that she was lifting her penalty a few days early. No sooner had the message been delivered, then I was streaking for the weapons room; not even pausing to see if Dylan was anywhere near ready to depart. It wouldn't be the first time I hunted alone.

My movements were anything but listless, as I bounded down the concrete aisles of the large warehouse. Flickers of the occasional hunter or small cluster of hunters punctuated the void, their animated tones standing in stark contrast to the metallic glint of the weapons surrounding them. My presence, on the other hand, didn't shock them. They were used to seeing me flitting around the building.

As it was, they were mostly adults. Being only fifteen myself, I never had much reason to seek entertainment where they were concerned. Gazzy, Dylan and I didn't bother them, and in turn they steered out of our much more existential path.

It was a routine we had all been dancing around for the past few years.

"Max!" a voice called suddenly to me, screeching out from a few rows of shelves back. I skidded to a halt, twisting my torso in the correct direction.

Ari materialized from the shadows, grinning from ear to ear. He appeared to be concealing something underneath his arm, approaching me slowly. I waited in interest, eyebrow cocked in question.

"We just got a new shipment of supplies. I thought you might be curious as to what I dug up," he explained loftily, winking cheekily.

Ari had been around the CSM almost as long as I had. Though he was certainly well into his early twenties, half the time he acted as if he were younger than Gazzy. Despite this, the stretch in age had us running different circuits. He spent most of his time sifting through the experimental junk that entered the weapon room; presenting me with items he thought were of significant worth.

"What do you have for me this time?" I inquired, shuffling closer. The immense fluorescent bulbs that hung above trickled down in intensity by the time the light reached ground level, leaving the floor in a dim haze.

"Nothing too special. There are a few makeshift grenades full of holy water, and a smaller model of the Fairy Stun Gun. It still holds the same amount of sugar powder, though. It might come in handy if you run into one from the Unseelie Court." He passed the objects to me as he spoke, carefully depositing them into my arms.

Something that must be understood about fairies is that in order to detain them, you had to slow them down. _Way _down. If you didn't administer the prescribed actions, they could easily persuade you to join them. The second you let fairy food touch your lips, or become a link in one of their dances; you're done for. Say goodbye to your life, because you just became a permanent slave for the Unseelie Court.

I knew hunters that had come close, and from their description, it seemed worse than any ogre encounter. And those _sucked_. Trust me.

In addition to that, there were very few methods to control fairies as it was. The most effective measure was to blast them with as much sugar as possible, and hope it hyped them up enough to fizzle their devious little brains.

"Thanks, Ari. These'll come in handy tonight. There've been a lot of reports on a coven of vampires roaming around a ways north from here. Anne hasn't issued me an exact mission, I'm just scouting . . . but if I catch one of the blood suckers, all the better." At this point, my legs were trembling with the adrenaline coursing through my veins.

"Good luck, then." Ari's benign smile hadn't left his lips, and only continued to widen further in reassurance.

-o-o-o-

Despite it being the middle of January, the snow had begun to thaw. There was clear weather throughout the remainder of the forecast, but that didn't mean the inches wouldn't pile back up again later. Now that the Winter Solstice had passed, the paranormals would retreat for the rest of the cold season. This sudden bout of mild temperatures would surely tempt them back into the open.

I headed first east, and then slanted my pace in a northward direction. My current path would draw me away from most civilization, but I had no patience for a stakeout. My nerves were buzzing, and my limbs jerked to be moving. For the time being, I was a predator stalking out my prey. Rather than waiting for it to come to me, I would seek it out myself.

Hours passed, but the muscles in my legs barely burned with exertion. The terrain was becoming less rough, smoothing into a gentle slope. The vegetation thinned, morphing to rock. It was probably the farthest I had traveled from headquarters in a _long _time. For a moment I had trouble wracking my memory, attempting to determine where I was.

When the rocks turned into boulders, then tapered, jagged peaks; I knew I had traversed much _too _far.

The sparse, browning grass plummeted steeply, creating a sheer twenty foot drop into the pit below. It was ringed by large monoliths; towering columns that plunged into the dank air like the serrated edge of a deadly knife. Shattered glass sparkled wickedly from within.

Past hunters had asserted it as the City of Lost Souls. Something about it attracted ghosts like moths to a flame. The displaced souls of those deceased congregated in its depth, wailing their unheard sorrows to the wind. The spirits themselves were of no immediate danger. They could barely interact with the living. It was the poltergeists who posed an immense threat.

Essentially, poltergeists could be considered the most dangerous of all paranormal creatures. Though there was a definite absence of teeth, claws or debilitating charms- they had their own way of causing harm. They held the ability to influence tangible, inanimate objects, as well as control a certain amount of air currents.

To put it simply, they can throw things at you: extremely heavy, possibly _sharp _things.

This wouldn't be so much of a danger, had there been any way you could apprehend one. However, they were still _ghosts_. Technically, they weren't part of this world, but of a sub-dimension somewhere between. It's not like I could just reach over and knock one out; my hand, or any other appendage, would go straight through.

So, poltergeists were sort of invincible.

I cursed silently at my own stupidity, having wandered aimlessly into a certain trap. It wasn't like me to lose track of my senses so easily, but there was nothing I could do to change that now. I just needed to retrace my steps as quickly as possible.

Vainly praying that I hadn't attracted the attention of some invisible, unwanted eye, I stumbled backwards, weaving around to face where I had come from. Immediately, my breath was lodged thickly in my throat. The distant birds continued chirping, chittering to one another through the trees. The steady drip of melting snow waned in the background, blending with the rustling of the limbs in the wind . . .

And the forked branch that was dangling in the empty space above my head swung sharply toward me.

I ducked, throwing my arms up to protect my head. An icy breeze lifted stray strands of my hair, and I could feel the pressure of the log passing just over me. Before I could straighten to survey for another attack, the poltergeist delivered its desired blow.

The branch clobbered into my stomach, smashing every particle of air out of me. The force of the swing lifted me off my feet, sending me flying into nothing. For a moment I was weightless, suspended in mid-air. Then gravity took its hold, and I pitched onto the rocks twenty feet below.

I couldn't help but cry out, gritting my teeth to strangle the sound. Wincing, I felt every individual piece of stone and glass that was ripping into my back. Warmth flooded around my temple, and I blinked through the trickle of blood that wept down my face. Fire burst from various pats of my body, and I knew that some of my ribs _had _to have cracked from the blast of the branch.

Of course, the poltergeist's assault was only just beginning.

At the crest of the pit, a monstrous boulder appeared. My eyes widened, and through my torment, I managed to barrel roll myself away; just in time for the giant stone to crash over the lip. It stuck where it landed, shaking the ground perceptively. All the air in my lungs left in a grateful whoosh.

But, I could only imagine how much worse it could - _and probably would _- get.

It seemed to be just as I was thinking this, that a tinkling, bell-like sound rang through the clearing. My vision ripped in the direction of it. A few feet away, a pile of glass shards was shifting like something was trailing a hand through its midst.

Practically screaming the phrase '_pain is just a message' _through my mind, I pushed myself shakily to a stand. My eyes narrowed in fierce determination. No worthless ghost was going to get the best of me.

Without warning, a slab of tapered glass spiraled toward my chest. I deflected it with a nearby chunk of rock. The onslaught began, fragments of glass raining hellishly on my virtually unprotected personage. Most I could block, but some shards sliced through my clothes, biting into skin.

Soon, I would grow dizzy with blood loss.

My breath came faster, panting from between swollen lips. Sweat poured from every pore, mingling with the crimson streaming from my wounds. The salt burned, shooting sharp flickers of bright white light across my already scattered vision. My knees quaked, beginning to buckle.

Just before I dropped, a massive shadow passed over my head. A rush of wind blew my matted blonde hair, swirling it around in the air. Strong, tan arms came around to grip my waist. I didn't even have the strength to howl at the pain the pressure produced. My feet were lifted off the ground, swooping further and further from the earth.

Black feathers appeared in my peripheral vision; an angel come to spare me at last.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Equinox**

_**Chapter Nine**_

Mesmerizing orange and yellow flames licked across the surface of the wood, igniting the tinder placed strategically there. It was the first thing I saw upon waking, and minutes lapsed before I managed to tear my gaze away from it, and up to the canopy of barren trees above. A dull pain thrummed all throughout my body.

Shadowed figures traipsed beyond my view, hushed murmurs coalescing over the crackle of the fire. I could detect several distinct sets of footsteps; possibly four other people meandering around the campsite. I briefly wondered, in my state, how easily I would be able to escape. Especially in the case that they actually pursued me.

"I think she's awake."

The small whisper reached my ears, and I instantly tensed. The sound of someone approaching was evident, and I seized any panic before it could burst forth. In any situation, you always had to remain _calm_.

"Max?" Fang's unmistakable timber resounded deep in my gut, as his familiar obsidian eyes filled my vision. "You okay?"

I blew out a breath I had unconsciously been holding, struggling to sit erect. Fang kneeled instantly at my side, his hand fitted to the small of my back for support. Wherever his fingers and palm touched, alien tingles spread. I bit my lip to hide how shaky the sensation made me; feigning weakness.

"Where am I?" I wondered aloud, brushing the soft pads of my fingers over the bulge on my temple. They came away dry, meaning someone had washed the blood from the jagged cut. "What happened?"

Fang moved to sit across from me, his elbows resting on his knees. The fire reflected off of his eyes, giving them a marble-like quality. His lengthy eyelashes cast slanted lines across his cheekbones, shrouding his expressionless face further into darkness.

"Don't worry. We're not far from your home," he informed me, speaking in clipped sentences. I was getting the sensation that it was normal for him. "As for what happened . . . well, you tell me."

I paused for a moment, trying to recollect all that had transpired. As I reminisced, I took inventory of my injuries. There were various slashes from the glass, but they were minimal and not very deep. My ribs were torturing me the most, which undoubtedly meant some were fractured. I would have to see an actual doctor about that. Mulling over my ribs consequently reminded me of my treacherous fall, and the blow that had knocked me so far off my feet.

"Damn poltergeist," I muttered sullenly, my upper lip curling at the memory.

Fang raised an eyebrow.

"It was a poltergeist. You know, like a ghost," I explained, as if it should have been obvious to him. From the distinctly incredulous look on his face (the first true sign of emotion I had seen from him thus far), I could tell he wasn't buying my story.

"Let me guess," I drawled. "You don't believe in ghosts."

He smirked, and my heart leaped in response.

"Well, get used to the idea, because that's exactly what happened. I would steer clear of there if I were you, too. Poltergeist's have a lot of anger built up. After all, you're human and they're not. You've seen the damage they can do."

"Clearly," he spoke dryly, indicating that he thought I was certifiably _crazy_.

"What were you doing there anyway?" I demanded, my eyes narrowing. The City of Lost Souls had never been a hot spot for anything other than spirits. Even regular animals sensed enough to stay away from its enclosure.

His eyes immediately darkened, lips pressed tightly together in response.

"He was following you!" a voice piped up suddenly, startling me so much that I jolted where I sat. I had completely forgotten that there were others present, still lingering out of sight. Now, they chose to emerge.

The first was a grinning girl, mocha skinned and curly haired; appearing about twelve or thirteen. She was trailed by a much younger female, whose angelic blonde curls reminded me instantly of Gazzy. The last was a boy, probably around mine and Fang's age, who towered clearly over six foot. His strawberry blonde hair was spiked around his head, eyes cloudy and blue.

Fang remained unaffected by their presence, motioning to each in turn as he gruffly introduced them. "That's Iggy, and they're Angel and Nudge. Guys, this is Max. She helped patch up my wing."

I smiled wanely at them, offering a subtle wave. They (aside from Iggy, who just looked faintly bored) exuded nothing but enthusiasm. Without hesitation, they formed a circle around me, settling into place expectantly.

A few moments of silence passed, before I recalled what had been exposed just before they revealed themselves.

"You were _following _me?" This time I was the incredulous one.

"Didn't plan on it. But you passed right by where we were camped. You were alone, and I remembered that _thing _that almost killed you the first night. Thought maybe it wouldn't hurt to keep a tab on you. Guess I was right," he annotated shortly, with the barest minimum of details. His words were accented by an ineffective shrug.

"That _thing _was a werewolf . . . and it _didn't _almost kill me!" I bristled defensively, though I knew he was right. If Dylan hadn't intercepted when he did, I would have been done for.

"A werewolf?" the angelic girl, _Angel_, queried; baby blue eyes large and fearful. Nudge mirrored her expression.

"Uh . . ." I shot a look at Fang, wondering what I should say. Eventually, I decided the truth was better. Especially if they were sleeping out here in the wild. "Yeah. A werewolf. Usually, they only morph during a full moon. That night was somewhat of a special occasion, though. He was much stronger than usual. That's the _only _reason he overpowered me."

Iggy snickered, but didn't comment. However, his level of interest had greatly increased.

"You're serious, aren't you?" Fang finally asked, his dark brow furrowed.

My chocolate brown eyes found his, unwavering in the settling dusk. Without releasing my gaze, I unraveled the items stored around my belt. A silver dagger, the holy water grenades, Fairy Stun gun, and all the other devices and weapons; tumbled out onto the forest floor for all to see.

"It'd be a pretty elaborate joke, don't you think?" was all I said in reply.

Fang rubbed the back of his neck, whistling softly. Beside him, Angel was staring hard at me, as if she were trying to concentrate on a difficult subject. When my gaze flickered to her, though, she dropped her eyes to her lap. I was slightly miffed by this, but decided it probably wasn't of any importance.

"So . . . you're saying things like ghosts and werewolves are real? What about vampires? And witches and wizards? All those magical things that everyone says don't exist. It doesn't make sense. Why haven't we seen them before? Or at least heard that they weren't all just fairy tales?" Nudge rambled for some time after that, the tumble of words never slowing as they passed her lips.

Finally, I cut her off. "People don't know, because it's safer that way. If the general populace obtained such knowledge, there'd be widespread panic. In this particular case, ignorance is bliss."

"But _you _know," Iggy pointed out, speaking for the first time. His body turned in my direction, but he refused to directly meet my eyes.

"That's because I grew up in an organization that's devoted to regulating the population of paranormals. We monitor their activity, and when they begin to pose a threat to human society, we exterminate them." My illustration was rather archaic, but it displayed the essential standards of the CSM.

After all, that was fundamentally what the acronym stood for: Coalition to Stop the Madness.

"How exactly did you become involved with such an establishment?" Iggy inquired, leaning closer to the fire. He lounged out, propping himself up on his elbows. Relaxing for story time.

"I was kind of . . . born into it. My father was chief advisor for many years. He ran our entire branch." I swallowed over the sudden thickness in my throat, blinking rapidly. We were crawling into dangerous territory, and I didn't - under any circumstances - want to dwell on the memory of my dad.

The demeanor shifted palpably, some unspoken message delivered to everyone present. They didn't question me any further.

"What about you?" I asked, tilting my head towards Fang. I didn't actually have to mention the wings; he knew the information I sought.

He hesitated, his jaw set. "Long story."

"I've got time," I retaliated almost instantly, making a show of getting comfortable.

The rising moon begged to differ. Strands of inky night were encompassing the sky, swallowing any lingering slivers of golden light. In the distance, the nocturnal animals were sparking to life; their rustles murmuring through the undergrowth. By now, Dylan would be concerned as to my whereabouts. A few more hours, and the forest would be flooded with search parties.

"No you don't," Fang replied swiftly and surely. How he had managed to gather all that from my unalterably tense shoulders, I had no idea.

"I deserve to know the truth," I justified, stubbornly refusing to abandon my platform.

"You saved my life," he conceded. "I saved yours in turn. We're even now."

I tossed my head back, barking out a bitter laugh. The movement sent a twinge through my ribs, and I sucked in a breath, hoping nobody had noticed. "That's _surely _not the case. Now tell me _what you are._"

"Fang," Angel piped up impulsively, shooting him a sugar-coated smile. There was a persuasive purr to her next words that had even stone-like Fang caving to reason.

. . . "We should stay with her."


	10. Chapter Ten

**Equinox**

_**Chapter Ten**_

Fang leaned casually against the wall opposite of me, and I could feel his penetrating stare on my back; red hot. Trying to shake the feeling of being watched so closely, I gently shut the door leading into the room where Iggy, Nudge and Angel had just settled themselves for the night. Fang would be joining them soon, but we had a few things to discuss first.

"Follow me," I ordered, gesturing in accordance. Fang shoved off the wall, falling into step beside me. His tread was light, barely audible in the echoing hall. His eyes flickered at every angle, always on the look-out for danger.

He would make a great hunter.

We turned a corner, and I ran headlong into a rushing figure. My feet slipped from beneath me, and I tripped back, beginning to tilt to the ground. Fang's arm shot out, cradling my waist. The pressure of his touch made my face flare, burning an undesirable pink. I righted myself as quickly as possible, attempting to take a discreet step away from him. At the same time, I unleashed my glare on the unfortunate fellow that had caused the incident in the first place.

"_Max_!" Dylan shouted breathlessly, an immense wave of relief rushing over his features. A sigh shuddered through his body, and his shoulders lowered from their previously tense position. "You're okay."

I raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, I'm good. Why so concerned?"

His turquoise gaze flickered to Fang, something akin to irritation replacing the worry in his eyes. He turned back to me a moment later, visibly calming. A blatant sternness had now encompassed his entire expression. I could see the rant building in his system. _Great_.

"You leave, without even warning me. On top of that, you didn't tell _any_one where you were going. Anne hadn't issued you an assignment, so she couldn't even _guess _where you could be. The first few hours, it was fine. You've gone out enough on your own. No big deal. _Then_, night begins to fall- you still conveniently nowhere to be found. I was worried sick, Max. Any number of paranormals could have killed you, and I- _we'd _have no way of knowing," he exploded, spewing words left and right. His entire demeanor had shifted, heating with rage. Not at me specifically, but at how independent I was regardless of our partnership in most cases.

"Dylan," I stated, grabbing his attention. "_I'm fine_. I'll explain everything to you later. Right now, I'm a little busy."

"What's he doing back here, anyway?" he spat, not even endeavoring to mask the hostility in his tone. I was more than slightly taken aback, unable to make a retort. Judging from Fang's smirk, he didn't seem all that hurt by Dylan's remark. Then again, I could barely discern any emotion from the guy as it was.

"He and his friends are staying here for awhile, so get used to it," I snapped back, scowling.

"Does Anne know about this?" Dylan demanded, a smug smile blossoming from his lips.

No. Anne didn't know. But she would find out, and soon. I could hide the presence of one fugitive, but I couldn't disguise four all at once. She would eventually catch word that unidentified beings were walking amongst the CSM personnel. Once that bit of information was out, it all depended on what kind of mood she was in that day: malicious or compassionate.

From my sudden silence, Dylan derived his answer.

"You know she's going to be furious," he warned, as if Anne's wrath meant anything to me in the slightest. I couldn't help but roll my eyes.

"Well, we'll leap that hurdle when it comes. As for now, I trust you'll do everything in your power to prevent it from happening in the nearest future." My voice was commanding, though I formed my words as a mere 'suggestion'. He got the point, sneering bitterly.

Regardless of his feelings, he'd do what I said. He always had.

"I should probably let Anne know you're back," he muttered sullenly, twisting the hem of his shirt between his fingers. He refused to meet my eyes, glaring only at Fang. Fang returned the gesture, obsidian eyes reflecting nothing but the ineffectiveness of Dylan's venom.

Well then.

"I'll see you in the morning. We'll talk then," I promised, trying to smile through the tightness in my jaw.

He shrugged, shouldering past. I didn't miss the way he bumped into Fang, causing him to shuffle a step to the side. From the sudden flash in his eyes, Fang didn't seem to miss the purpose behind the action either.

"I don't know what his problem is," I said once he was out of earshot, thoroughly disgruntled.

Fang snorted, but didn't add his thoughts. However, he didn't appear shocked by Dylan's behavior in the slightest.

I shook the sentiment off, continuing down the corridor as we were before being so rudely interrupted. Seconds later, we arrived at the lounge room. No sounds were blaring from inside of it, which meant that Gazzy was either sleeping or amusing himself elsewhere. If he wasn't taking his lessons or training, he was most likely holed up with his assortment of game consoles. At the moment, we would be blissfully alone.

I motioned Fang to enter, slipping the door shut softly behind me. He stood in the middle of the room, observing the array of couches and the general litter of trash and half-eaten food. Dylan and Gazzy had been making a day of it, apparently.

Settling into my usual chair, I tilted my face up to Fang's, looking at him expectantly. He sighed, loping over to a couch opposite mine. His arms folded over his knees, as he leaned forward. I waited for him to speak, tugging my bottom lip anxiously between my teeth. I wasn't really sure what to expect.

"More than once, you've referred to us as paranormals," he started, the area around his eyes and mouth tightening perceptively. "We're not one of your mythical creatures, though. We're . . . man-made."

He paused, not elaborating any further. I spoke up, saying: "I'm not sure I follow."

"Each of us - meaning Iggy, Nudge, Angel and I- were created in a lab. We call it the School. It's some freaky group of scientists that think it's fun to mesh DNA between humans and animals. All of us are ninety eight percent human . . . and two percent bird," he explained, almost casually. There were some emotions he couldn't mask though, and I could see the verge of panic in his eyes. I had a feeling he was reflecting upon memories that were less than welcome.

"So . . . that's where the wings come in?" I asked, trying to process his claim.

He nodded.

"What else . . . what else is . . . bird-like?" I inquired, my gaze turning scrutinizing. Aside from what I had seen of his raven wings, he looked like a perfectly normal human. I had no idea what he could be concealing, though.

"Our wings are the extremity. Aside from that, there's nothing that affects our appearance too much. Our bones are more porous, like a birds. And we have a better lung capacity, for when we're flying at greater heights."

"Then you really _can _fly?" This feat was what I was mostly curious about. I had been a little out of it when Fang had swooped in to rescue me from the poltergeist, so I wasn't sure if I had imagined it all or not.

Another nod.

"How did you end up here? I mean, what happened with the School?" Questions were beginning to build up endlessly within me, and I wasn't sure if Fang had the tolerance to answer them all at once.

"We escaped," he stated monotonously. "That's all you need to know for now."

I opened my mouth to speak, but clamped it shut automatically. I had pressed him for enough information that night.

Sensing this, he came to his feet. I sat and watched as he turned away, heading for the door. Just as his fingers brushed the knob, he paused. Without twisting to face me, he began speaking once more.

"Don't think us coming here, or me telling you all of this, means that I trust you. Angel says we can, though . . . and I trust _her_."

He left immediately following that statement, leaving me to struggle in my own perplexity. While his words hadn't at all come as a surprise to me, I still wanted to overcome the powerful guard he had thrown up.

Regardless, there was something about he and his friends' existence that just didn't make sense to me; a missing piece of the puzzle that hadn't yet clicked. In addition, I was still unaware of their full story. Until then, I would just have to keep my eye on them.

The emotion in Fang's eyes - what little his brick wall had allowed to be transmitted - revealed a horrific past. I had yet to learn all the details, and I didn't know if he'd ever trust me enough to share. I'd get as far as I could, though. My instincts told me to help them, no matter the secrets they may be harboring.

And I never doubted my instincts.


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Equinox**

_**Chapter Eleven**_

I tapped my foot impatiently on the carpeted floor, glancing at the nonexistent watch on my wrist. The flock (as I learned they were called) shifted restlessly where they sat, scattered around the large room. Nudge and Angel were huddled together, hushed whispers passing to each other under their breaths. Iggy fiddled with something in his lap, as Fang observed wordlessly from above. I stood off awkwardly to the side, unsure of my standing amongst them as a whole.

"I'm sorry it's taking so long," I finally blurted, unable to handle the unnerving, smothering cloak that had settled over the room.

Dylan had insisted that he come along with us, though. He claimed it was because he was curious about the flock. However, I knew him better than that. The only thing he was interested in was discovering some way to prove that they were dangerous. How exactly you were able to take a single glance at Angel: blonde curls, blue eyes, and everything else indicative of a cherubim, and decide that she was in any case a threat was beyond me.

Angel's head lifted, and she flashed me a dazzling smile.

. . . _Okay_.

Other than that, no one responded to my words. A few more sluggish minutes passed. Eventually, I took to counting the fibers of the bland carpet below. My fingers twitched where they were folded against my ribcage, and I shifted from one side to the other. I was justifiably considering letting Dylan catch up with us later, when he smoothly made his entrance.

"Where have you been?" I demanded in exasperation, shooting him a petulant glare. "I know you think you're a pretty boy, but getting ready _shouldn't _take that long."

He rolled his eyes, tossing a few strands of his golden hair back in their rightful places. "Where do you think I was? Anne was grilling me the second I left my bedroom."

"I'm impressed. She's on top of things today." Impressed, but marginally so.

"You're lucky I have no idea what's going on. When she asked why there were four strange kids sleeping in the housing quarters, and I said I had no idea, she had sense enough to believe me," he remarked, holding the door open with the tip of his boot. "She wants to speak with _you_, though."

"Of course she does," I replied offhandedly. "But she can wait."

"_Max _-" he began admonishingly.

"Patience is a virtue, and it won't kill her to have some. I have more pressing matters to attend to, and you both can _deal with it_."

He shrugged, knowing enough about me to realize that this string of conversation was a lost cause. His turquoise eyes remained trained on mine, like he was attempting to convey some silent message. Dylan and I didn't really do the whole telepathy thing outside of hunting assignments, though.

"Who's _Anne_?" Fang asked gruffly, and I turned to meet his hard stare. It was the first time he had spoken virtually all morning, but the curiosity was evident in his eyes, whether he wanted to project it or not.

"Anne is the boss lady. She's the tyrant that runs our branch of the CSM," I explained.

"Is she going to kick us out?" Iggy squeaked from the corner, concern raising his voice a few octaves too high. He seemed to sense this, slumping even lower into his chair.

I shook my head, remembering at the last second that Fang had informed me he was blind. "Probably not. She knows I'll have told you _way_ to much privileged information by now. It could be detrimental to the entire system of the CSM to toss you out into the cold."

"So what you're saying is she either lets us stay . . . or _kills us_?" Iggy exploded, throwing his hands into the air.

"She wont kill you," I assured him, making a point of meeting every member of the flock's eyes. "You're . . . interesting. She'll like that. You're more valuable to her alive and here, than just _dead_."

"Kind of like how she thinks of you, Max." Dylan grinned, sliding his jab in right under the bar.

I rolled my eyes, ignoring him.

"Let's just begin our tour."

-o-o-o-

I gave the flock a brief tutorial into the history of the Coalition to Stop the Madness. Founders, massive breakthroughs, advanced technology, yada, yada, yada. In between the lesson, Dylan and I toted them around the compound.

We showed them where the rest of the bunks for visiting hunters were, and advised them to steer clear if at all possible. They had already seen most of where us "kids" were welcome. Then we strolled through the corridors, taking turns explaining what the various clusters of rooms were used for.

CSM headquarters had a relatively simple layout. There was a building above ground that served as offices and other mundane facets of the organization. Below ground (which was where we currently were) was a sprawling network of corresponding departments. In one area you had the housing quarters, another the medical facilities, then the training area (which linked with the weapon's room), as well as Anne's private offices.

We had only one remaining portion to explore.

"These three hallways branch off into the Science & Experimental Department. But I don't think any of us want to go down that path." I didn't miss the way Fang's entire body twitched at the words 'science' and 'experimental'.

"What do they do there?" Nudge asked, voice lowered to a whisper. She shifted nervously, visibly shuddering. All of them were on edge now.

I knew something terrible had happened in their pasts. Fang's brief introduction into their complicated lives had exposed that much. In some way, I guess I was grasping onto the vain hope that they'd feel obligated to share more with me, if I showed them my equally tumultuous lifestyle.

"Look, you have to understand something about what we do," Dylan began, compassion leaking into his tone. "It's not always fun, and it can leave a bad taste in your mouth for _months_."

Dylan glanced down at me, hands curled into fists. It was the first time I'd ever heard him speak in such a way, and I was just as -if not more- enraptured by what he had to say. My fingers found their way to his shoulder, squeezing the blue material that clothed it comfortingly.

"But we save human lives doing it, and that's what's important," he finished, heaving a shaking breath.

"Our jobs finish once we tag a paranormal. There's a whole different crew that removes it. What they do after, we have no control of," I said, starting where Dylan left off, but my words felt like more of a reminder to myself, rather than informative.

"What _do_ they do after?" Iggy inquired, swallowing thickly.

"One of two things. Permanently dispose of the body, or return it to this lab. We have some of the brightest scientists in the entire _world _working at the CSM's disposal. It's their job to conduct experiments and studies on the paranormal's. Learn more about them, about what they truly are inside."

Dylan's arm was on mine now, steadying me.

"And are they all . . . dead?" I wasn't sure who the question had come from this time. My attention had wavered, as I stared stone-faced at the wall. The scientific aspect was the part I considered least glamorous when concerning our system of action.

"Not always. Neither of us have brought in a live specimen in awhile. I try to avoid it at all costs. Something tells me that death is a whole lot nicer than what they do to a creature in there." My voice was hollow and void of its previous splendor. The CSM was my home, but I didn't accept everything about it.

"What's the point of studying them anyway?" Fang's question came out somewhat strickened. The tight set of his jaw betrayed the harsh set of his grinding teeth, and his irises flickered darker than they ever had before.

"You have to understand something to control it. The more we know about a species of paranormal, the more accurately we can get rid of it. _Control_. Everything's about control, and finding ways to gain it over something you previously couldn't." The stark truth was riddled in my claim, and I could tell it made everyone present sick to their stomach- including myself.

I turned on my heel, heading for the furthest corridor to the right. The light was immediately different; searing my retinas at a brighter spectrum. The rest remained where they stood for a few conflicted moments, before Dylan murmured for them to follow.

A few feet later the hall veered around a sharp corner. The white walls and floor were glaring in the intensity of the fluorescent bulbs hovering above, and I had to blink repeatedly to clear away the dancing spots obstructing my vision. This gave the flock time to register what the rest of the hall contained.

Sheets of impenetrable glass separated the individuals within from the outside world, as well as the other creatures trapped in their own cells. Most of the pods were empty, but a few housed a paranormal in their depths.

"This is the Containment Wing. It's where they keep their currently living test subjects." I expected to choke over the words, but they passed my lips as smoothly as I intended.

"Bigger than cages," Fang muttered under his breath, as he lingered on my left side, before walking slowly forward.

Dylan rested a hand on both Angel and Nudge's shoulder, guiding them to one of the inhabited cells. Iggy meandered behind, running his fingertips over the walls. Dylan began quietly explaining what the hissing monster inside was, and I had to turn away before I exploded.

Fang's back was to me, and I could see the tense set of his shoulders beneath the gray fabric of his t-shirt. It was the same one I had stolen from Dylan's closet and given him weeks ago. His palm was pressed flat against the cool glass, as he examined what was behind it.

"It's a fairy," I whispered, stepping up beside him. My arm brushed his, shooting a violent string of tingles through the muscles there. I sidled a few more inches away, hoping he hadn't noticed.

The fairy was seated against the back wall, knees folded to his chest. I could tell it was a male by the point of his ears. They were more tapered at the top than a female's would be. His skin was almost translucent, with an undertone of orange. He wore the tattered remains of what was probably once regal attire, and the spidery vein of one of his wings protruded from just above his right shoulder.

"Doesn't look dangerous to me." Fang adopted my hushed volume, refusing to meet my gaze.

"Until he charms you into joining his dance, or offers you fairy food. He's a member of the Unseelie Court. You'll be a slave for eternity. Don't ever underestimate a paranormal based on how they _appear_," I scoffed, deadly serious. "This guy was a hot commodity a month or so back. A hunter I know finally caught him. Do you want to know why he was considered so threatening, and thereby gravely important to apprehend?"

He nodded, expressionless.

"He was luring _kids_ -kids as in _Angel's_ age- into the forest, and then feeding them fairy treats. He managed to doom five children into eternal damnation before he was put to a stop. Five innocent little boys and girls, who will never see their families or any sort of happiness again. And for what? So the fairies can have a couple more servants at their every beck and call?"

It was the first crack I had managed to make in Fang's emotionless mask.

"I want you to help. I think you and your flock would like it here. You'd be safe, and you'd be keeping other people from harm as well." I had been mulling over how to propose my offer to him for awhile, but that moment seemed like as good a time as any.

He finally tilted his head to look at me, every one of his features grim.

"You might be right."


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Author's Note: Sorry about the unpredictable updates. I haven't had much inspiration for writing lately, especially when concerning FF. WHICH, brings me to the following: I need your opinion.**

**What should I do to improve this story?**

**I brainstormed awhile back, and I pretty much have an outline with tons of ideas for the remainder of the story. But that's just an outline. I want to know what you think would be a good addition to the actual content of the story. Any suggestions will be taken into consideration, so don't hesitate!**

**Thanks :)**

**Equinox**

_**Chapter Twelve**_

"Well this is quite the affair, isn't it?"

Anne's eyes narrowed, and her lips folded into a petulant frown. Her fingers visibly tightened around each other, where they were clasped on the table before her. To her left, Marian Janssen shot me a scathing look. If it weren't for the obvious differences in their features, they could have been mistaken for twins.

In contrast to the two, Dr. Martinez bit her lip to keep from smiling. She was seated to the right of Anne, and obviously uncomfortable with the arrangement. The rest of the conference table was occupied by various senior hunters, who all appeared absolutely bored out of their minds.

"Sit down, Maximum," Anne ordered, a terseness entering her tone that did nothing to obscure her exasperation.

Normally, I wouldn't be so obedient. I had a feeling this was going to be painful enough of a procedure, though. _Normally_, Anne didn't arrange for a full scale meeting when I was being scolded. Special occasion, I presumed. I slumped into the single empty chair at the opposite end of the long table without complaint.

"I'd give you the chance to defend yourself, but I'll save myself the headache," Anne began, flattening her palms against the cherry wood surface; applying enough pressure to turn her knuckles white. "You've done plenty of rebellious things in the past, but _this _is crossing the line. Even you must recognize that."

"As flattered as I am by this large reception," I said, indicating our audience, "I'm not sure I'm aware of what you're speaking of."

Marian snorted, and Anne flashed her a warning glare. Her mouth disappeared in a hard line, as she returned her cold gaze to my own. I grinned patronizingly, chocolate brown eyes wide and innocent.

"Don't play games with me. I'm had enough of it. This entire organization survives on secrecy. Now you've taken upon yourself the notion that you can prance around, bringing anyone you see fit into this life. Contrary to what you must believe, you are _not_, under any circumstances, permitted to do so. It's absolutely unacceptable." Anne's nostrils flared, and it took all of my impressive willpower not to erupt into giggles at the sight. The seriousness of the situation was more laughable than disciplinary. Most likely _not _the aura Anne was aiming for.

All eyes were on me, and I took it to mean it was my turn to speak.

"Let's be realistic for _two seconds_, here. You're not mad that I spilled all our dirty little secrets to a couple mangy kids. You're angry because I did it behind your back. Well, here's a news flash for you. When have I _ever _asked for permission?"

"Precisely the root of the problem," Marian responded, acid crawling through each word.

"Get over it," I spat at her, kicking my legs up on the table. I crossed my ankles, lounging as calmly as possible.

"I know it's proven difficult for you in the past, but you _will _respect your elders." Anne's voice cut through the icy, disgruntled silence that followed. I gloatingly took notice of the bulging vein in her neck.

_Somebody_ was getting a little worked up.

I rolled my eyes, a smug smile falling languidly across my face. This was awfully entertaining for what had, at first, seemed like a death trial.

"Max," Dr. Martinez said, soft but stern.

My smirk fell, just as quickly as it had come. I sighed, returning to my former position. Straightening my shoulders, I stared Anne down across the small cluster of flowers that had taken residence in the center of the table.

"Look. I get it. It's a big deal. I should ask for permission, yada yada yada. But I didn't, and it's too late. The fact remains that, just because you don't approve, doesn't mean it wasn't a good decision on my behalf. You don't know _anything _about these kids." I was building up to a nice, long rant. To save myself the trouble, I clamped my mouth shut, awaiting a response.

"Because _you_ do?" David Norman demanded. He was a hunter from somewhere in Virginia, most likely stopping by our base to check up on things, or on his way somewhere else. He had a son named Sam; my age. I had only met him a couple of times, but he had seemed nice enough. And cute, but that was beside the point.

"I know they have nowhere else to go. I know we'd be doing a good thing by taking them in. I know they're special, and I know they'll make _great_ hunters. Give them the chance."

John Abate spoke next, looking thoughtful. "We'd have to train four more kids, when we've just finished with you and Dylan. A couple more years, and Gazzy will be ready to hunt. The difference between you three and them, is that you were all virtually born into this. How are they even supposed to grasp the magnitude of what's to come?"

John was a good a guy; one of the best. He was a phenomenal hunter, and had personally had a hand in most of my training. He was probably one of the closest things I'd had to a father since the passing of my own. His judgment was one of the few that I considered important, but I was sticking with the flock whether he agreed or not.

"I'll handle it all. None of you have to worry about a thing."

Anne splintered the space between us with a bitter laugh. "Where you're concerned, we'll always be worried. However, you seem surprisingly passionate about this. It might even be good for you. While I'm still disconcerted over your lack of communication, I know a loss when I see it."

Max: roughly two billion. Anne: 0.

"If that's all, I'd like to dismiss myself." I stood before she could muster a reply, flicking a strand of dark blonde hair over my shoulder.

She shook her head, but motioned to door. Resignation lapped at the creases in her aging face. It wouldn't be long before my shenanigans forced the gray hairs lurking within her scalp to sprout from their follicles. When she took on the position after my father, I don't think she had any idea what she was getting herself into.

Poor thing.

-o-o-o-

"It's time for dinner," I announced, poking my head into the doorway of our lounge room. Fang's eyes flickered to mine, and he nodded silently. The rest of his flock took this as a safe sign, and scrambled to their feet. Dylan, who had been quietly conversing with Iggy in the corner, loped past me and into the hall.

I turned, guiding our newcomers to the mess hall. The steel gray double doors were propped open, and gave way to the long room within. Square tables littered the speckled tile floor, but only a few were occupied. The hunters were too engrossed in their food to pay attention to our arrival.

"There's Gazzy." Dylan nudged my shoulder, tilting his head in the Gasman's direction. We had staked a claim on a cluster of tables in the far east corner years and years ago.

"I'll go talk to him. Take them through the line. You guys can have anything you want; as much as you want. The food itself is pretty generic, but I'll squeeze some dessert out of the cooks later tonight." I waved my hand toward the kitchen, attempting a comforting smile. They still appeared uneasy and on edge. Not that I could blame them.

It would take some getting used to, this way of life.

Gazzy shoveled a forkful of spaghetti into his mouth, giving me a sloppy grin as I approached. A noodle was making an escape from between his lips, and sauce was already spattered on his cheeks and shirt. Bottomless pit took on a whole new meaning when it came to Gazzy.

"Remember to breathe between bites," I reminded him, ruffling his curly locks as I passed to take a seat on his left. He ducked from my fingers, squirming away.

After swallowing carefully, he said, "I think I'm pretty good at eating by this point. Don't worry."

"Touche," I muttered, laughing despite myself. "Anyway, I don't know where you've been lurking, but I'm sure you've heard about the new additions."

"Yeah. You and Dylan brought in some group of kids. He was telling me about it last night before we went to bed," Gazzy replied, dragging a napkin from one jaw to the other.

"Right, well they're probably going to be staying with us for awhile . . . which means you'll have some new training partners." I figured this prospect would excite him. Gazzy didn't like being the youngest. From his point of view, it basically spelled: always left out. Hopefully, now he wouldn't feel so alone.

"Cool!" He proclaimed enthusiastically, before continuing his indulgences.

Dylan returned soon after that, the flock trailing apprehensively behind him. They scattered into various chairs, not so subtly drawing them nearer to each other. Dylan plopped down beside me, sliding a plate into my hands. I took the fork he offered, meeting Fang's dark, blank gaze from across the table.

"Everyone, this is the Gasman. We usually call him Gazzy," I said by way of introduction, clasping onto his shoulder. He smiled, almost shyly, baby blue eyes shining.

"Hi," he murmured, shaking a coil of gold onto his forehead.

"Hey!" Nudge exclaimed, lips stretching in a wild smile. She hummed in her seat, bursting with nervous energy. "I'm Nudge, and this is Iggy. He's Fang, and over there is Angel. You guys kind of look a lot alike, actually. A lot a lot. I mean, you both have curly blonde hair, and blue eyes, and you have similar noses," she concluded, cocking her head to the side, as if she was summing up all their comparable traits.

Though I probably would have stated it in a few less words, she was right. Angel and Gazzy _did_ share quite a few physical qualities.

"Well, now that we've got all the introductions out of the way, let's eat," I pressed, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "We've all got an early morning tomorrow."

Fang's obsidian stare burned on mine. Was it really necessary to be so intense at _all _times? I wanted to ask, but I was getting the notion that the answer was _yes_.

"Why?" he asked, raising one crooked eyebrow.

"Training starts bright and early."


	13. Author's Note

Okay well I'm done. No one is reviewing. And that's not an exaggeration. Literally- ZERO PEOPLE. Barely anyone has the story on alerts as it is, so I have _no idea _if anyone is even reading. Maybe no one is reading **this**.

For some people, especially new FF writers coming in, that wouldn't be a big deal. For awhile, I even convinced myself it wasn't a big deal. Sorry, but, I'm not new around here. I've been writing fanfiction since I was TWELVE. My sixteenth birthday is in a couple months. Granted, I took over a year off recently. Before that, I like to think I was pretty successful.

The Hostile Encounters is my best story to date. I had high expectations coming off of it, and that's my fault. I shouldn't have done that to myself; it wasn't realistic at all.

Things have, obviously, changed. I guess I'm just not cut out for FF anymore. Like I said: even though I try my best to distinguish them, I have high expectations. That's ENTIRELY my fault, and I'm definitely not blaming any readers for that.

I'm not blaming readers for ANY of this. If you don't want to review, that's your choice. I won't pretend I can force you, and I don't want to.

So I'm sorry (especially about how much of a whiny, self-centered, bratty teenager I sound like). I really think my days of writing fanfiction are over. This is just the push I needed to leave it for good.

Nevermore is out. The Maximum Ride series is done and over with. It seems almost comically fitting that I should retire from writing fanfiction about it as well.

Who knows. Maybe I'll slide in a couple oneshots here and there. If inspiration hits, I won't hesitate. For now, that inspiration to write anything for FF has pretty much run dry.

Thanks to those who have taken their time to review. Thanks to anyone who's even read a sentence of what's been posted of the story. As I said before, I don't blame anyone but myself. Shit happens. I've shaped my entire ability to write on fanfiction for MR, and eventually I was going to outgrow it.

I think now is just a good time to cut my losses and move on.


End file.
